Harry Potter: Spirits of the Past and Future
by WaxWings
Summary: Previously titled "Past meets Future: Harry's Angels" Hermione casts a spell to change the past and fix the present; however, she is not the only influence that will enter the child Harry's life.
1. Death is just the begining

A/N: Previous formatting errors have been corrected and the story should be much more readable. The chapter has been revised and the updates were posted August 18, 2010 and September 8, 2012. This story was previously titled "Past meets Future: Harry's Angels." I want to profoundly thank everyone that has read this story. Even if you do not post a review, knowing the numbers of people that have read my story inspires me to continue.

HP:SPF

**Tick ... Tick ... Tick …**

It was an older clock. In the right market it would be a valuable antique. When she had bought it, it had been little more than junk and substantially discounted. Hermione had lovingly and carefully restored each part and finish until it became the treasure it was now. Magic served judiciously could do that.

Hermione treasured it. It was a purely mechanical clock, driven by springs and gears. An electric clock would never work reliably in her home. She had plenty of magical clocks. Each served a different purpose. One of her clocks tracked magically significant astrological events. She normally wore a magical wristwatch that reminded her to eat when she became hungry. Her husband's heritage even provided a clock that tracked the location and disposition of her entire family. She had once added three special hands to that clock. Those hands had fallen years before.

This mechanical clock was special to her. It represented a part of her heritage that she rarely had time for anymore. It was a beautiful thing with brass gears and a glass case. It had to be kept up high on the wall. Little hands were as fascinated with it as she was, and much less careful.

**Tick ... Tick ... Tick …**

The clock steadily counted the passing of time. The inexorable passage of time. Each moment followed by the next. Each effect following a cause. You can look back with clarity and see how each moment followed from the next. You can look back, but can change nothing. You can look forward, and even if the vision is blurred, does not each moment follow the next; each effect follow a cause? Does not unseen fate rule?

**Tick ... Tick …**

It was not a large room, but recently everything had been moved out, leaving it nearly bare. Several portraits accompanied the clock on the wall, and silently watched the proceedings. Opposite the single, closed, and locked door was a fireplace in which burned a low orange fire. Along with the furniture, the room had been stripped of nearly all of its customary enchantments, and an unfamiliar draft caused the fire to dance lightly within its confines. There was a single high work table in the center of the room on which sat a curiously constructed apparatus.

In the center of the apparatus, a glass globe radiated the blue light of a contained flame. The dancing flames were distorted by the thick glass made imperfect by many tiny bubbles. These bubbles seemed random, perhaps made by trapped gasses in the molten glass. The globe had been oriented such that the mostly obscured bottom contained the a greater concentration of bubbles with the density decreasing until the top of the globe was clear. The blue light waxed and waned as if in sympathy with a somewhat irregular heartbeat.

Supporting the globe was a delicate web of silver wire. These fine wires grasped the globe and table as if they were overgrown jungle vines, and rose up again at seven points equidistant to the center of the globe and to the same height as the globe's equator. There were seven purple gems mounted at those points. They reflected and refracted the light of the blue flame, subtly adding their own internal light.

Hermione put down her calipers. All of the distances were accurate and seemed to be of adequate precision. There were numerous scratches covering her hands and lower arms and a couple of deeper cuts from the final adjustments she had just completed. It wouldn't take more than a couple of seconds and a wave of her wand to heal, but the slight injuries didn't interfere with her task. She didn't bother to think of her injuries, at this point they didn't matter.

She looked at her creation, carefully considering it. She had created many things in her life. She was in some circles very famous for her understanding of magic, and she had created many useful, interesting, or powerful spells and enchantments. She had even helped develop a couple of potions. However, this was her master creation. No other spell or enchanted item could be compared to its power or the new directions in which she had pushed the application of magic.

She picked up her wand and tapped the center globe. It immediately flared brightly, casting her study in harsh blue light and shadow. The light receded, yet the flame remained. It took her a moment to blink away the after images of the bright light and to be able to see clearly again. The harsh blue light seemed to fill the room with a feeling of doom. Hermione carefully pushed aside a feeling of panic.

She then touched each of the seven gems in turn with her wand, rechecking them. When she touched a gem, flashes of emotion and images burst through her mind. She consulted her list. She felt confident that each of the promises had been properly described. She was certain each of the seven promises would be kept. There would be a cost, but she did not allow herself to worry about that - not at this point.

**Tick .. Tick ..**

She put down her wand, then startled herself by pausing at the act. She would be losing so much, and thought that she had prepared herself. She hadn't even given a thought to her faithful winewood and dragon heartstring wand. She was tempted to pick it up one last time and feel the always consistent surge of magic, but with resignation she turned away. She was long past the point of decision.

She placed her right palm upon the glowing globe. Immediately, she felt its warmth flow up her arm. As it entered her chest, she felt herself become light headed and her vision dimmed. Keeping her hand in place, she adjusted her stance to make sure that she remained standing.

"Wait." A man had been quietly observing her preparations.

With every tick of the clock she could feel her own life diminishing. The blue light within the globe became steadily brighter as it grew to fill her vision to the exclusion of everything else. She felt weak and she put her free hand on the surface of the work table to support herself. She tried to smile, to be reassuring, but she did not have the strength. She did not remove her hand from the glass sphere.

**Tick ..**

"It's time." Hermione was surprised at the weakness of her own voice. She shouldn't be so weak.

The man seemed surprised as well and started towards her before he checked himself and remained where he was. His voice became pained. "I love you."

Hermione tried to turn away from the light and look towards her husband. But even though she could move her head so that she was looking directly at him, blue light still filled her vision and doom suffused her soul. The only sight she had of her husband was a faint silhouette. "Ron... I love you."

She could not stop the quiet tears. Her last glimpse of husband had been denied her, and the loss that she would soon suffer, unavoidably now, threatened to overcome her strength. Her eyes shone wetly in the dim light of the study. Her expression was uncertain as she struggled to control the muscles in her face. They seemed intent to betray the emotions that filled her heart. Tears were one thing, but she had to be able to clearly finish the incantation.

Turning from Ron, she tried to say something else. She wanted to express hope for the future or confidence in their success - something appropriate for the occasion. She could find no words, and her strength continued to flee.

"...Forever!" Ron exclaimed with conviction, completing their usual proclamation of love. It was the perfect dedication for their plan and action. She faced the light and, summoning all of her remaining strength, loudly declared: "_Buskalma"_.

Previously she had been filled with an empty headed comfort, a feeling as if she burned from within with a gentle flame. A flame that despite its gentleness was inexorably consuming her. Now she felt as if she had been been doused in ice water. There was pain, unimaginable, pervasive, and inescapable pain. She was at once aware of every nerve in her body as each burned in agony. Where once there was peaceful heat, there was now pain as her soul was ripped from her body. She was overwhelmed by blue light and a roaring noise.

**Ti **..

But only for a moment. The blue light faded to red then blackness. There was no pain, no noise, and no light. Time in its every continuing march had paused.

HP:SPF

She lay there, _floated there?_, breathing heavily. She experimentally moved her limbs. She was surprised. Contrary to her expectations, it seemed as if her body was present. She moved her fingers experimentally over her face and chest. Searching fingers seemed to confirm that she was whole and intact. There was utter darkness. Darkness greater than any magic could produce, and bringing to her mind the experience of a deep cave. She tried reaching out, but there was nothing. Besides herself, there did not seem to be anything to touch. It did not even seem that she was being supported by anything.

"Hello?" She tried to speak, but nothing penetrated the silent darkness.

"Harry!" Hermione was trying to yell now. She was not sure that her cry even reached her own ears. She tried again with more energy, "Harry!"

This time she was careful to note any changes in her environment. Her voice did not penetrate the blackness. This time she she was sure that the sound had not reached her ears.

She felt fear start to gather around the edges of her consciousness. The oppressive darkness and silence pressed against her and threatened to trigger latent claustrophobia.

With great determination, Hermione focused on bolstering her confidence. She would not be beaten by fear or anything else. Fear had been a constant companion throughout her life. Starting as a young child, fear had always been close, a constant pervasive threat. She feared that she might not be good enough, or that she might not be liked, or that she might fail.

No matter how well she did, or accomplished, she always had that small voice telling her that it might not be enough. That feeling had never gone away, but she could manage it now. The strongest and best strategy had been to be the best and do everything correctly.

She would not be trapped. No other witch or wizard had ever understood the magical principles that she had employed as well as she did. She had made no mistakes. Events would unavoidably unfold in unpredictable and adverse ways, but she would not be trapped her, she could not be, her spell would not allow it.

Forcing back the fear, and placing her confidence on her own ability and actions she tried to explore her surroundings once more. There was absolutely nothing. There was nothing supporting her, She could not move from her spot. She felt the encroaching approach of a curious mix of both claustrophobia and agoraphobia.

She would not be defeated. "HARRY!"

This time she could hear her cry softly propagate through the space around her, eerily muted and hollow.

Again "Harry!", but this time with greater force than before. She realized that she had placed more force behind her last cry than would have been possible if she was still in her own body. This time she definitely heard her own voice. The darkness shuddered. A grey mist appeared before her, visible without any illumination.

There had not been any motion in the world. With nothing to support her, she had not even been able to move from her spot. Now Hermione felt herself moving forward. The movement was inexorable, but she did not even try to fight it. She faced the unknown future with determination. The darkness fell away as she left it behind.

HP:SPF

Darkness beyond human comprehension remained. Darkness such as presses upon you and extinguishes any light. It was a void, a place of non-existence. Something dwelt there. Not properly alive, and yet not dead either, but asleep. The creature would have remained asleep until both it and the void was destroyed; however, a light had briefly pressed against the darkness and a voice had shouted against the silence. The echoes still lingered

_Harry...Harry_

In the darkness something stirred. There was no light. There was nothing to touch or smell. But the interloper's voice continued to echo, disturbing its sleep. Rousing this creature trapped in the empty world.

_Harry..Harry_

The world had been pierced. An external light had shone briefly here and a path had been opened. Words had been spoken and their echoes would not died.

_Harry..__**Harry**_

It was no longer a woman's voice that continued the refrain. It was a quiet voice, shaky and uncertain, but in the lower register of a man who had once command great power. The echo would not die, but became steadier and increased in power,

"**Harry**, ... **Harry**."

Suddenly the rhythm of the echoing voice was interrupted as it abruptly stopped.

"Harry Potter?" Asked quiet, questioning voice. The echoes had all died. The creature was fully awake as it considered that one question.

It started to remembered. No sleep was deeper than from which it awoke. Confusion reigned, there was no reference point, nothing to suggest where it was, how it got there, or even what it was. Only the single phrase, "Harry Potter."

The name brought fear and dread to the creature. It brought the memory of sickly green light rushing like a storm. It brought the sense of mastery and killing intent.

Memories were unlocked. In the timeless void, the creature remembered who it was. None could restrain it. Its power and mastery had grown beyond the ken of mere mortals, for he had transcended even death.

The entity pushed against the darkness, and strained his growing power against the void.

The dark world began to lighten. A gateway existed that lead from the void. As he fully awakened, the gateway opened, and the creature fled the void.

"Harry Potter…" There voice was no longer weak, nor held any uncertainty. Lord Voldemort was awake.

HP:SPF

**..ck**

**Tick .. Tick ..**

HP:SPF

Time continued its constant march. Moment followed moment. Cause followed effect. Things might have turned out differently, but every love and happy moment, every tragedy that could have been only existed as a memory and a silhouette in the dark. Yet fate is determined by the choices made each individual. Fate cannot be denied.


	2. Harry's Eighth Birthday

A/N - This chapter has been revised. This version was uploaded August 18th, 2010

Hermione looked at the boy laying in the bed before her. The world was almost entirely dark. She had succeeded. Harry was there, young and peacefully sleeping. She smiled. Kids always looked so peaceful asleep. Sadness threatened to divert her attention, but she quickly forced the feeling down.

"Can you hear me, Harry?" The boy remained fast asleep. She sighed. She would be patient.

Inexplicably, she was dressed in a blue robe. It had not been what she was wearing when she had left her family, but was instead one of her favorite robes for casual wear. She had not been wearing it mere moments before. She was certain that she had not being wearing it in the darkness before appearing at Harry's side. It seemed to be her old, familiar robe, but it was not. Her robe had been splattered by a boiling potion several days before, and was now damaged. This one was not. She examined her left side where the potion had splattered on her. Before her eyes her robe changed, and now reflected the damage which she had experienced.

"Ah..." She sighed as she started to understand. It was not something that she had ever studied extensively, but it made sense. In the magical world it was known as _Dream Shaping_, and it was of limited utility. She was also familiar with the same concept from the muggle world where it was known as _Lucid Dreaming_.

_If that is the case_, she thought to herself. Hermione concentrated for a moment. Her casual robes were gone, replaced by her best dress robes. She didn't have a reason to wear them more than once or twice a year and she always complained about the time that it took to prepare. They looked nice on her. "Interesting," she spoke aloud, and she started to practice.

Though it was hard to tell, it may have been several hours, but she saw that the world was starting to brighten. Harry stirred and awoke; blinking away his sleep.

Hermione tried to get his attention. "How are you doing Harry?" She asked aloud. He didn't appear to take notice of her presence. She tried reaching out to him and was surprised to find that she was able to touch him, but he gave no sign that he had noticed. He dressed and left his cupboard.

Hermione had only visited Number 4 Privet drive once before, but even in the past, it's tidy hall was instantly recognizable. She was carefully studying her surroundings, when suddenly a young boy appeared. He was unmistakably Dudley Dursley. He did not yet carry the immense amount of fat he would later, but even now his face and body were well rounded by indulgence and leisure. He and Harry spoke, then left the house to play together in the backyard.

She had arrived at the correct time. It was Harry's eighth birthday.

For the past several months, years perhaps, she had lived under constant pressure. That pressure had only seemed to increase when she had finally developed the theories that would successfully allow this mission to take place. Right at this moment, there didn't seem to be anything she could do, and it left her a little bit flustered. Hermione knew that she would be able to communicate with Harry. The _gardades_ spell that formed an integral part of her temporal voyage guaranteed that. She had been forced to dedicate one of the seven promises to guarantee that she would be able to successfully communicate with Harry. Unfortunately, and very understandably, none of the literature she had consulted provided any guide. Her's was a unique situation. However, confident in the efficacy of her spell, she allowed herself to relax and watch the two boys play.

Hermione was surprised. She had always believed that Harry had suffered bullying at the hands of his cousin, but she did not see any of that. She continued her experiments. Harry still did not give any sign that he was aware of her presence. He did not respond to her voice or touch. She could touch him, his cousin, and the surroundings. All felt to her as real as her own body, but unyielding to the pressure of her touch. It was all as rock, hard and unmovable.

She noticed that the backyard seemed more dreamlike than Harry's cupboard or the rest of the house had been. In particular the sky was oddly blank. She discovered that she was able to make objects appear, objects that were not hard like the rest of the world, but looked and felt normal. She caused a comfortably padded lawn chair to appear and sat in it.

Hermione was not one to be easily discouraged; in fact, she had always thought that achievement was meant to be obtained through struggle. Throughout her life, if she had accomplished something without too much effort, she had always continued to work until she had expended the effort that seemed appropriate. Some had seen this as over achieving. It did not matter.

She had a promise. She just had to work out how it was possible.

Harry woke up. Slowly, the last fragments of the night's dreams were replaced by an awareness of his small closet with its slightly damp smell and cramped walls. As was his general practice, he quickly got out of bed and changed out of the large t-shirt he used as a nightshirt into his clothes. There was no reason to delay the start of the day. There was no reason to remain in the small closet. Among his over sized clothing, he found a shirt and a pair of pants that was neither too large, nor too dirty. After dressing, he opened the door to his cupboard only to find Dudley waiting for him outside.

"It's you birthday today. Do you think you are going to receive any presents?"

Harry looked at his cousin and could feel his face warming. "I don't know." He turned towards the back of the house. "Do you want to finish that pit today?"

Dudley's round face exhibited conflicting emotions for a moment, guilt being among them, but it was replaced rather quickly by some excitement. "Okay, but I get to name the tiger when we catch it!"

A tall, dark, cloaked man stood unseen, brooding over the scene scene before him. Two young boys, muggles judging by their clothing and the rather depressingly mundane neighborhood, were industriously digging a hole in a fenced yard. He was becoming rather frustrated. There were many things leading to his frustration. The first was his surroundings. Things had the tendency to shimmer slightly as if they were not quite there. The colors also had the nasty habit of fading. In fact most of the environment was in shades of grey, and yet suddenly areas would bloom with vivid colors. People were the worst. He remembered this morning when the boy had left his room. Suddenly the other boy had appeared as if a disillusionment charm had been suddenly dispelled.

The man stalked around the boys and the yard. He felt disgust as he watched that their labor did little to enlarge their hole, but very successfully dirtied themselves and their clothing. He had tried to leave. He had tried to Disapparate. He had been unsuccessful. He failure was not due to any anti-apparation wards, rather he simply did not feel connected to the world in the way required for apparation. He had tried simply walking away, to go somewhere else, but not much beyond the boy's immediately surroundings the world became sketchy and dark. He had tried to explore those dark regions, but he been forced to remain near the young boy.

He knew what it meant. He was currently within the boy's memories. He checked himself and revised his assessment, _No probably not his memories._ Proper memories have been processed by the brain, packaged and stored. No, this world was in too much flux. Details suddenly appearing and being assimilated. It was worse; somehow he was not in the boy's memory, but within his current perceptions. As impossible as it seemed. He had some experience with this, and even more familiarity with the theory. It should not be possible to stand here in the world of another's perceptions. The closest analogue that he was familiar with was possession. On the chance that he was only partially possessing the boy, he had attempted to complete the process, but he had failed completely.

He gave a grunt of displeasure. There was another source of his displeasure. He still could not feel his magic respond. It was becoming increasing apparent that he no longer possessed a body in the mortal realm. A thrill of fear tingled up his spine. He never acknowledged it to himself, but here he was confronted by his own most secret fear. He was powerless.

He shook his head slightly and lifted a hand to his forehead. His thoughts seemed sluggish as if he was just waking from a dream. And as if he was waking, slivers of poorly remembered thoughts echoed through his consciousness. An incomplete memory forced itself to the forefront of his thoughts. A rushing green light. _What had happened?_ It was clear that he had failed.

The boy was clearly a Potter. The Potter. It was not the name he had heard the other boy use, or the whisper that had awaken him that told him this. No, it would be apparant to anyone who had known James and Lily potter that it was their son that was grubbing in the dirt before him.

Somehow he had failed. The killing curse ... somehow the killing curse had failed to kill the boy - the boy which was now grown and growing. And somehow he had…died? No, not that. His preparations would not allow that. Instead, somehow, he was trapped. He fiercely studied the boy's young form and glowered at his age. He was trapped, and somehow held insensate, unconscious for many years.

Lord Voldemort was frustrated. The prophecy had warned him, and now been proven accurate. Somehow he had been defeated by an infant.

Harry pushed several more clods of dirt away from the lip of the hole that he and Dudley were working on. A sudden pang of hunger reminded him that he had not eaten yet. "Do you want to go in and get something to eat, Dudley?"

Dudley continued to scoop dirt out of the hole. He worked steadily, but seemingly unaware of the dirt that streamed back inside. He paused to evaluate their progress. "I want to get this finished. We need to get it done soon, but … I guess we can stop for breakfast."

The two boys lifted themselves up from the hole and tromped into the house. Harry saw that his aunt Petunia was in the front room visiting with her friend Maple. It seemed that their was two things to which Aunt Petunia dedicated her life, her soaps and gossip. Aunt Petunia was facing away from the boys, but Maple saw them entering and gave a little tsk.

"Petunia, I really must admire you. Not only must you worry about your own son, but watching after your nephew as well. If I were in your position I would probably search for as many opportunities to escape them as you." Maple's voice dripped with sugar, but echoed with the same level of outrage and condemnation with which just moments before she had held for a neighbor who had let his lawn grow too long.

"Wha..?" Petunia followed Maple's eyes and turned to see Harry and Dudley. "Dudley! What have you done?" "You," she directed herself to Harry with indignation, "What have you convinced Dudley to do? Clean this mess up immediately!" Aunt Petunia turned to address her son again, "Dudley, clean up and put on some clean clothes."

"Mom, I am hungry." Dudley complained.

Petunia paused, "Go clean up, I will bring some food up to your room." Dudley went upstairs. "Maple, I am sorry. Dudley generally is much better behaved."

"Don't worry Petunia. There really is only so much that you can do. I am really very impressed. Given what you have told me about your nephew, it seems that you have done a good job limiting his influence on Dudley." Maple continued.

Harry didn't like being around his aunt's friends and really would have prefered to hide in his cupboard. However, when his aunt asked him to do something, espescially when he was asked in front of someone else, he knew that had to do it immediately. When he was almost finished sweeping up the dirt which he and Dudley had tracked in, Aunt Petunia brought him the mop and told him, "You will need to mop both downstairs and up. I am sure that Dudders has tracked some dirt upstairs."

Voldemort was a patient man. He had learned that lesson early. Impatience leads to mistakes and lost opportunities. Yet, he could not escape the ever present and oppressive feeling of being trapped. He had clothed himself in a black robe and had been pleased with the result. He had even furnished this inane muggle home with more pleasing furnishings. It now appeared to him dark and strong, made in stone and darkwood. He decorated with pleasing tapestries, but he was not entirely satisfied. It was only an illusion. It was all in his head - or maybe Harry's.

The boy was sitting in some clean clothes watching his Aunt Petunia's television program with her. She had not allowed him to go outside for the rest of the day. She said that it was a punishment. Meekly Harry had followed all of her directions. Voldemort's blood ran warm to see it.

A car could be heard parking in the driveway, and soon a large man entered the house. Dudley jumped up to greet his father and take his hat. Vernon saw Harry watching television with his aunt. His face grew red he and asked. "What did Harry do today?"

"That is a very good question to ask. Maple came over this morning, taking time to visit. I was having a very enjoyable time, when to my shame he dragged Dudley in from outside. Both of them covered head to foot in dirt. It was horrible. I had just explained that Dudley's teachers gave all those nice comments at the end of the year."

Vernon's face clouded in anger. "Boy, I have told you to stop acting like a fool and vagabond. Your parents may have been miscreants, but this is a respectable, civilized house. Even you must be able to pretend to be civilized." His face was now a mess of red and white splotches, and he paused mid rant in order to take several large breaths.

Dudley took advantage of the momentary silence to ask his father, "What is Harry getting for his birthday?"

Vernon again appraised his nephew with anger, then spoke, "Harry, for you birthday this year we will be giving you perhaps the single most valuable thing you could receive in your life. I do not expect that you will ever account for much, but if you are to have any success in life you must fight your nature and become a respectable member of the community." He glared and Harry, his eye wandering towards his nephew's long, wild hair. "Do you understand boy?"

"I think I do," but the boy's voice was weak and reflected confusion.

"Very good." Vernon continued pompously, "I have brought you in and sheltered you. I try to believe that our home is having some positive influence on you." He voiced trailed off into a low growl. His eyes fixed on Harry's black hair and Vernon instantly found his voice again. The was a note of glee in his voice as he continued, "I think a good first step would be to tame that mane of yours."

Voldemort watched with impotent rage as the simple muggle roughly handled the young wizard. Without any sense of style, Vernon took a pair of scissors and hacked away at his nephew's hair. He seethed and quietly repeated to himself a resolution, _Muggles will be put in their place, never shall a muggle exercise authority over a wizard._ He found that he held his wand in his hand. It made him better; showed that he was better. However, here, now, it was merely an illusion and his power fled.

As he watched the wizard, who was now crying from his rough treatment, he vowed, he would regain his power and he would put the muggles in their place. He would never be powerless again.

It was not quite dark yet, but Harry had been sent to bed. Hermione watched the boy sob slightly with his face buried in the pillow and a hand running through the tufts of his remaining hair. It had been difficult to watch the events of the day. It corresponded well with everything Harry had ever told her about his life living with the Dursley's. It was also incredibly sad to see it first hand, to be a witness without the power to act.

She sat at his bedside stroking his back. Her hands lightly following the contours of his rigidly unyielding clothing and flesh. She let her mind reflect. In this mutable world, she was lost, but there were seven certainties that filled her mind like diamonds. She focused on the first – She would be able to communicate with Harry and pass along the information she had come back to provide.

As she remained in her reverie, casually maintaining her unheeded strokes of comfort, she noticed a soft purple light had entered the room. Looking, she found a familiar violet gem sitting on the foot of Harry's Bed. It glowed with an internal light. She reached out and grasped it. As her fingers curled around the stone she knew the first promise would be kept.

Voldemort sat brooding, wallowing in his own anger and disgust. Anger towards this family of muggles that in ignorance and sense of superiority could not see beyond the pointlessness of their existence and would dare degrade a wizard. Disgust towards this boy who seemed powerless to do anything about it. Thus, he sat, welcoming the encroaching shadows.

A woman suddenly appeared. Voldemort glanced towards the door, but it remained closed. In fact, Harry did not show any sign that he was aware of her presence. Her robes proved her to be a witch. She wore a glowing violet gem around her neck.

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

Voldemort saw the boy the boy tense, his sobs suddenly cut off.

"Harry." She reached out and touched the boy. He responded by shrinking back, shaking. The woman had paused at his response, but then continued speaking "Harry. I love you, and I will be here for you. Go to sleep, It will better tomorrow."

Voldemort saw that the boy remained very tense. She pulled back her hand, and with a slight bow of her head, disappeared again. However, the purple glow remained. Voldemort found a violet gem identical to the one the woman had been wearing sitting on the boy's bed. He examined it carefully, but could find no clue as to what it was. He was patient and the gem sat there for at least an hour before he reached to touch it was a single cautious finger.

As soon as his finger touched it, understanding flooded his counsciouness and the overbearing feeling of being trapped disappeared. He now knew his cage was not quite so secure. Emboldened Voldemort picked up the gem and clutched it to his chest. He smiled.


	3. Eight years 1 day is old enough

Harry dreamed that he was flying. It was a dream that he often had, sometimes motorcycles were involved. He landed and saw a woman waiting for him. She wore an odd dress with a cloak. She wore a glowing purple gem around her neck.

"Harry, you fly so well."

Harry smiled and the woman disappeared. Voldemort grunted in displeasure as his gem stopped glowing, the boy's dream faded away. He returned to his own dark world in the boy's cramped room. He'd had a productive night. The gem granted knowledge of its use as soon as it was touched, and so far all of it had proven correct. With it he could access the boy's memories and dreams. He could also use it to manifest himself to the boy as the woman had done the night before and just now in the boy's dream. The weakness however, was that the gem would go dead; it seemed that he could only use the gem when the woman used her own. He did not have enough information yet, and so he waited and watched.

The woman appeared again. She sat on the edge of Harry's bed, and began to rub the boy's back.

"Good morning Harry. Wake up."

The boy did not move much.

"Come on Harry, wake up."

Sleepily the boy stirred, and then slowly blinked his eyes open. "What?.."

"Harry, My name is Sophia. I am a friend." Voldemort, observing, thought, _that seems rather pretentious_.

The boy was very much awake now and staring at the woman in his closet. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled and answered, "I really just wanted to introduce myself. I will be around a lot, and, well, we had to meet eventually."

"I don't understand. Why are you here? Did the Dursley's let you in? Why?"

"No Harry, the Dursley's did not let me in. I am not really here. Let me show you." Sophia placed her hand on Harry's shoulder, and then disappeared. Voldemort could see by his shocked reaction, that not only had the woman disappeared, from his sight, but that as he reached for his shoulder, he had felt her touch and it had disappeared as well.

Not for long. The woman reappeared sitting on a plain wooden stool. "Harry. I am not really here. I am really only a dream." _Indeed_ added Voldemort to himself.

The boy leaned out of his bed and touched the woman's robe covered knee. "I can touch you, and you can touch me."

"I am a dream. When you are asleep you are able to touch your dreams. I am a dream that you can touch while you are awake. Please do not be frightened. No one else can see or hear me."

Voldemort smiled slightly.

"Harry, you are special. You are a wizard. You will be able to learn magic." The boy just stared at her, his emerald eyes still slightly clouded by the vestiges of sleep. "Go ahead and get ready for the day Harry. I will be back later." She ruffled his head, "Nice hair"

The woman disappeared, and Voldemort's gem grew dark. The boy reached up in wonder, his hair was as long as it had been the previous morning.

--

Harry was in the backyard again. This time he was busy filling in the pit he and Dudley had dug together. Dudley had been sent to a friend's house for the morning. His aunt was supervising him. Well, she was sitting on a chair in the backyard while reading one of her magazines.

While Harry worked on filling the hole, he reflected upon his experience as had a woken up this morning. He was not entirely sure that it was not just a dream. The woman had herself stated that in fact, she was just a dream. Yet is was different, but so fleeting that it did not seem any more real than a night's dream fading and forgotten as the morning starts. And yet… Harry paused from his labor for a moment, and looked towards his Aunt Petunia.

"Aunt Petunia, what do you know about magic?"

His aunt jerked the magazine away with a start. Her eyes were wide for a moment before narrowing and her mouth becoming small. "Harry, there is no such thing as magic. Finish cleaning up this mess quickly then clean yourself. You are dirtier than yesterday." Petunia stood up and went inside.

After a moment Sophia appeared again. The boy had returned to his work and was not looking in the direction she had appeared, yet as soon as she was there he seemed to sense her. He turned and looked up.

"Harry, your Aunt and Uncle know that you are a wizard. They know about magic, but pretend it does not exist. They hope that they can raise you not to be a wizard."

"But I am a wizard?"

"Yes Harry. Being a wizard is not something that you learn to be, but something you are. Even if your family was able to successfully keep you from learning to control your magic, it would still seep through. Just as it did last night, when your hair regrew." The boy considered this.

"Can you teach me magic?"

"No Harry, not really, you are still too young."

Voldemort tensed, he had not learned everything had hoped to learn about this woman's identity, power, and purpose, but through his life he had learned not only patience, but also the need to take advantage of opportunities as they appeared. This was exactly one of the opportunities he hoped would present itself. Making sure his appearance was correct; he activated the violet gem he wore around his neck.

Both Sophia and Harry jumped at the sudden appearance of a handsome young man dressed in green robes. He wore a gem identical to Sophia's around his neck.

"Sophia is correct Harry. It is illegal for an under aged wizard to cast spells. The ministry of magic would catch you and punish you. But there is more to magic than casting spells, we would be happy to teach you everything that we can."

"You!" the woman spate out, a wand had appeared in hand and it was now directed at the young man. This worried him slightly, but he suspected that her condition was must like his own. If so, the wand was merely an illusion and powerless. He kept a pleasant smile on his face.

"It is good to meet you. Harry, my name is Tom." _Ah, yes, the woman definitely responded to his name_.

"You can teach me about magic?" Harry asked the young man.

"Oh yes Harry. I am like Sophia, a dream and a companion. I would love to teach you about magic." The woman did not respond with surprise at his statements or even he had to admit, his presence. She responded with anger_. She knows more, she who I am. What I am._

Suddenly his gem stopped glowing and the woman had disappeared. The boy blinked a couple of times and looked around in confusion. "Sophia? Tom?" But he received no answer. After a moment he returned to his work, but more slowly and clearly distracted.

--

Hermione shook her wand several times going through motions of half a dozen different curses. Sparks would appear, but they only mocked her. She felt no welling of power or release of magic. They were merely illusions and figments, created from her own mind.

She was scared. She'd been gratefully relieved when she had deactivated the gem and Voldemort had disappeared as well, but he had been a very dangerous wizard and she feared what he was capable of. Mostly she was concerned that Voldemort would interfere with her mission.

--

Harry finished dressing to discover that his Uncle had returned home early. "What mischief is this boy? What did you do to your hair?" His uncle's face was becoming dangerously red. "What is this meaning of this? Your aunt called me at work, in tears over your antics. We are going to settle this at once. "His uncle then grabbed him and dragged him towards a chair in the kitchen. He received the same treatment with the scissors that he had received the night before, only this time his uncle seemed determined to remove every last hair. He was then banished to his room ven though it was early afternoon.

--

Tom watched as a repeat of the earlier night. The boy in his bed had his hand exploring the rough stubble left by his uncle's ministrations. _They really are very loathsome muggles_. Overall he was pleased.  
Whoever this Sophia was, he was confident that his presence did not fit into her plans. He really delighted in spoiling other people's plans. And yet… He suspected that she knew who he was, maybe even what he was, and it made him feel vulnerable. He really needed to find out what she knew.

His gem flared, and he rushed to activate it. He wanted to make sure that she understood that she would need to accommodate him, and he had his terms.

--

Harry was exploring his wounded hair when he suddenly felt that he was not alone. He turned and saw that he had been joined by Sophia and Tom. Sophia was standing while Tom sat on a wooden stool. Sophia looked angry while Tom wore a large friendly grin.

"Harry, I am sorry."

"Yeah, he really did a number on you. No wonder he flunked out of Barber College." The look on Sophia's face only became angrier when he spoke.

"My uncle attended barber college", Harry asked incredulously.

"No, sorry Harry. I was just joking. I wouldn't know. Sophia and I are not all knowing." He winked and inclined his head slightly towards the woman.

The woman spoke up, "Harry please be careful. Tom really isn't a person that you can trust."

"Sure, I like to joke around a little. But the kid has a sense of humor. Overall, I am a pretty nice guy." Sophia harrumphed, but Tom continued, "Honestly! Go ahead Harry, I am sure you have been stewing long enough today, you must have some questions."

Harry looked at both them, and then asked, "Why am I a wizard?"

Tom began to answer slyly, "Well Harry, when a wizard loves a witch very much…" But Sophia cut him off with a simple, "Your parents were magical, a witch and a wizard."

"My Aunt and Uncle never told me this. I was told they were vagabonds."

Sophia answered, "They wish that magic did not exist, that there were no such thing as witches or wizards. To them such people are worse than vagabonds and thieves. They are deathly afraid that any one would ever associate them with such people."

Tom interjected, "I think the real question Harry needs to ask is why he is living with them. His parents were not without witch and wizard friends. And an orphan with Harry's ability would eagerly be taken care of by a wizarding family. So why is he living here, where the only thing his gifts bring is abuse?" Tom was very pleased with himself. His question had definitely brought Sophia's face into a scowl. Quite frankly he was interested in the answer.

"You mean that I don't have to live with the Dursley's?"

A stool appeared and Sophia sat down. She reached out and took one of Harry's hands. "No Harry. There is a very good reason you live here." She paused and glanced at Tom who responded by arching one of his eyebrows. "This home has a very powerful charm cast on it. As long as you live here, as long as this is your home, you are completely protected from both magic and muscle."

_Ah, so the boy is still in danger. Somebody, Dumbledore?, fears for his safety. I may have failed once, but not completely._

"A charm?"

Tom broke in, "Yes, a charm. Tell me Harry, do you know how your parents died?"

"They were killed in a car crash."

"A car crash? Do not joke. Something as mundane as a car crash is incapable of killing a truly powerful witch or wizard. Let me assure you that your parents were powerful." Sophia was glaring again. "Your parents were powerful. It took something even more powerful to kill them. A dark wizard named Voldemort killed your parents. You are here to be protected from him." Tom paused, daring the witch to say something, but she remained silent. _If she is not going to say anything, then I am not_.

Harry's hand went to the scar on his forehead. Tom continued to speak, "You received that scar in the attack. Voldemort tried to kill you too. He failed." _Come on ask the question._ Everyone remained quiet, and Harry carefully traced the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

"I really am a wizard?"

Sophia answered, "You really are a wizard."

Harry considered this then said, "Okay, what are you going to teach me first?"

"Harry…" Sophia began, but Tom cut in, "I mentioned before that without a wand there are very few things that you will be able to do. I have given it some thought. You could try Legilimency, it is a technique to read other people's thoughts, but it will take a lot of work. We could teach you about magical animals, but in this neighborhood you not run into any. Magical plants might be helpful; we might even be able to track some down. You could definitely brew potions without getting into the trouble, but I don't think we will be able to acquire the ingredients."

Sophia again spoke up. "You might want to try becoming an animagus. It is a wizard that is able to transform himself into an animal. But right now Harry, maybe it is best if you learned about the wizarding world. Would like to hear some stories? You may have learned some history in school, let me tell about the parts that were left out."


	4. First Steps in the magical world

**Thank you to all those who have read the start of this story. I appreciate your feedback. I did not intend to submit this chapture today, but I reached a place where it seemed appropriate to stop.**

* * *

A young boy wearing ill-fitting clothes was walking alone down the street. His eyes were downcast and searching the flowers and shrubbery that lined the streets. As he walked an observant person might have seen him speaking to himself.

"Mrs. Reynolds always has many different types of flowers in her yard. Maybe we'll be able to find lilies there."

A witch was walking next to him. Sophia looked much younger than she'd been on his birthday a couple of days previously. Now she had the appearance of a young woman not any older than Tom. Today she was wearing blue robes. Around her, the surroundings, especially the plants flickered and shifted as the Harry continued his search. She occasionally glimpsed at them, but kept her eyes up at the horizon or towards Harry. She spoke, "In a neighborhood like this it is very unlikely we are going to find any magical plants. Is there anything else you would like to do?"

On the other side of the boy walked a young man. He was wearing red and gold robes. Whenever, he saw the witch's glance stray towards him, he would flick his arm or take a skip, anything to cause a flourish of his robes. _A Gryffindor_? Tom thought to himself.

Tom spoke, "What else would he like to be doing? It is a nice day, and a young boy should take advantage of the fresh air. It seems the rest are all stuck inside watching television." He paused, "I don't expect that we will find anything of value today either, but it's an adventure let's have some fun."

He fell silent watching the changing landscape around them. "Wait Harry, stop and look to your right again. Is that a hawthorn? No I guess not." And the group continued to walk.

Harry's hair was it regular length again, but someone had taken the time to flatten it to his head with liberal amounts of hair grease. As they continued to walk, hair after hair could be seen to free itself from its imprisonment and fly wild again.

The witch spoke up again. "Wait. Look at that rose bush." He paused and examined the bush. "Yes. I thought so. Look. The owner of this house has not been removing the dead blooms. You can see that there are rose hips starting to develop. If we are lucky, we might be able to find the lover's berry."

Tom turned to examine the bush with the other two. The stems and leaves were still appearing uncomfortably. "It is possible, but the only use for lover's berries I know of is as an ingredient in potion making. Besides, this muggle has not cared for the bush correctly; if a lover's berry did develop it will not be very potent."

Harry was now carefully moving the different stems aside, being careful of the thorns. "I don't care what it does, or how powerful it is. I want to see something magical."

"Okay. The lover's berry will be produced by the first bloom of the season. Look for the most developed hip. If it has stored any magic you will be able to identify it by the two leaves just below the berry."

Harry continued to search through the bush, receiving occasional tips from Sophia and Tom, who nevertheless avoided looking at the bush.

"I think I found it. " Harry spoke excitedly. He was carefully holding a stem and a berry was in focus. It had the two leaves described. His two companions examined it.

Tom spoke, "I think you are right. It is still not completely ripe, and it will be a weak little thing regardless. Nevertheless, I believe you have been successful in locating your first magical plant. Or at least in this case, magical plant part."

Sophia added. "If you want we could harvest it now."

"I do." Harry's hand went to his pocket and took out a silver earring. He had borrowed it from his Aunt Petunia's jewelry box.

"That's right Harry," Tom spoke as Harry removed the earring, "In this particular case, in order to preserve the berry magic, you will need to cut the stem with a silver blade. It would be better to do it at dusk, but we don't want you to get into trouble."

Sophia touched a spot on the stem about 3 inches from the berry. "Cut here."

Harry found it very difficult work to cut the stem. There was no edge of any kind on the earring and the stem was very tough. Eventually he was able to work his way through by reducing the stem to a pulp. He held the length of stem with the berry and two leaves appraisingly. He fingers were stained green from his effort.

Tom laughed, "You did it Harry. I don't think even a beggar of a witch would bother with that, but you hold in your hands a plant that has developed and stored a small amount of magic."

"What can I do with it?" Harry asked eagerly.

Tom laughed again, "I think it will only be useful in a potion, but I doubt that we will be able to manage it." Harry started to look at the berry with disappointment.

Sophia spoke, "Harry, one reason that it is caused the lover's berry is that it can be used to store and preserve feelings. These feelings can then be revisited later. We could try that. Would you like to?"

"I guess."

Harry folded the stem and berry in some newspaper from his pocket then continued his searching walk.

--

Later that evening, Harry was back in his closet. He had been sent there early. As far as he could tell, he had been sent there because he had been missing for most of the day. He suspected that his punishment was more for coming back than for leaving.

He held the rose stem and was examining it as he turned it in his hands.

"It does not have much power, and it never will have much. If it had been specially bred and cared for, berries can act as a strong resivoir of emotion. However, if we are careful to prepare and dry it, it should be possible to observe a noticeable effect."

"What do I need to do?"

Sophia continued, "Think of an emotion. Do not think of it, but feel. Try to feel as you felt at the time. Let it move you."

Harry tried carefully to think of an emotion. He wanted an emotion that would want to revisit again in the future. He remembered that first morning after his birthday, when Sophia had gently wakened him up. He had been comforted in way that he could not compare. He tried to feel that same comfort and he thought that he was close to succeeding when he remembered why he needed that comfort. That night and for the next couple of days, his uncle had sworn that he would master Harry's hair and each night he had quietly cried to sleep overcome by hurt and anger. But mostly shame.

That same burned in his heart and brought tears to his eyes.

"Harry?" Tom spoke with concern.

"No, I'm okay."

Sophia wore a worried expression. "This emotion, can you feel it, a spot where it exists and seems to radiate throughout your body?" Harry nodded. "Okay. Hold the lover's berry in front of you then visualize that spot moving. Moving outside your body and into the berry."

Harry concentrated. Through watering eyes he tried to visualize that burning dot of shame moving from his body and towards the lover's berry."

"Good job. I think you are doing it," spoke Tom.

Harry did not feel any different. He did not feel any different, until he felt a small pop and suddenly his shame flowed away as if it were carried a cool stream.

"What happened?"

Sophia smiled. "I did not expect it, but I am not surprised. From my perspective I could actually see a small light move from your body to the berry. Just now it disappeared. I think that you have done it!"

"Now what?"

"A lover's berry is used to store and remember emotions. You should now be able to relieve the emotion that you have just stored. Although, this emotion did not appear to be pleasant one worth revisiting."

"No, it is okay. I want to see this magic work."

"This is what you need to do. Open yourself to the berry. Let it become a part of yourself. Imagine that it is talking to your heart."

Harry did this. He tried to imagine that the berry was a part of his body. Nothing happened. He tried see the berry as a spark as flame. Lightly, subtly, and very easy to miss, he felt the shame, a pale echo of the previous thundering.

"I think I felt it. It was very faint."

Tom spoke. "This berry is only marginally magical. Now that you have prepared it, as it dries it will be able to store greater emotions, but it will only ever be very weak."

"So that's magic?"

Sophia smiled, "That is a very small taste. The world is a very glorious place. You cannot see much of it from this closet."

--

Hermione watched as Harry slept. She struggled with her emotions, trying to bury them again. Ruefully she wished that in this world she could have a lover's berry or a dozen where she could hide and lock away these feelings. But it really was the Lover's berry that had been the cause or least the trigger for her current struggle.

It reminded her to much of one that she had been given years ago as a gift. It was a cultivated lover's berry, but not a very expensive one. Voldemort had been defeated and they had been trying to figure out their purpose. She and Ron were on a picnic. Ron gave her the berry and somewhat fearfully asked her if she would be willing to look inside. She had, and instantly knew the depth and quality of love that Ron felt for her. The answer to his subsequent question was then never in doubt.

She did not regret coming back, nor did she regret what the consequences may prove to be. But she hurt. There in her private world of shadows, she allowed herself to stop struggling, and let herself cry. With no body to become exhausted, her tears lasted a very long time.


	5. The Limitations of Death

Tom reclined in his favorite chair considering the sleeping boy. He had now been awake for a week, and was becoming comfortable in his new existence. He surveyed Harry's small room under the stairs. To him the walls now had the appearance of stone. He had placed reliefs of dangerous magical animals highlighted with inlaid silver. It was much better than the simple muggle construction that was really there. It certainly helped him concentrate.

He needed to concentrate. It had now been a week. There was no doubt that Harry had inherited his parent's gift, but Tom could not identify anything that marked him as special. Given the environment he had been raised in, he was a scrawny boy, and until he and Sophia entered his life, totally ignorant of the magical world.

How then had Lord Voldemort lost to the infant Harry Potter?

--

Harry woke up. He was excited. It was a new sensation. Before Sophia had told him that he was a wizard, he had never been excited to wake up before. He wanted to get up and start exploring. He did not want to waste any time.

Sophia and Tom appeared. Both were wearing green robes. Upon seeing each other, Sophia's robe changed to blue and Tom's change to purple.

Sophia spoke, "Good morning Harry! How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. What are we going to do today?"

Tom answered, "I have given that some more thought. I think you might be interested in learning about runes."

Sophia nodded slightly.

"What do runes do?" asked Harry.

"Runes are a form of writing system used some magic users. Many ancient magical texts are written in runic characters." Sophia responded.

Harry was starting to frown slightly.

Tom smiled and added. "Don't look so disappointed Harry. Most of the most important and powerful magical texts are written in runes. That by itself is reason enough to learn them. But runes can also be used. When properly constructed, a rune or string of runes can be magical in themselves. For this reason you will often find runes incorporated into magical artifacts."

Harry brightened a little at this.

"You really need to use a wand to properly invest a rune with power, but it is also possible that a rune may acquire some power from the materials it is constructed from. We may be able create some weakly magical runes if we construct them from the proper materials."

Harry nodded happily at this.

--

Harry was in a park near his home. He was sitting at a picnic table carefully writing in a composition notebook. He had spent a good portion of his carefully hoarded, yet meager savings to purchase the cheap notebook.

"That hitch looks much better now Harry." Spoke Sophia. "The _hav_ character also has a runner. You don't have the first accession at the correct angle yet. It moves like this." Sophia traced her finger along the page of the notebook and a green line appeared following her touch.

"I am not sure how well I can do this. My penmanship is really bad."

"Don't worry about it Harry," said Tom. "Runes are not taught at Hogwarts until the 3rd year. Even if you don't pick up much now, you are still trying to learn something that most other wizards don't try to learn until they are much older, if ever."

Harry nodded his head again, but uncertainly.

Tom continued, "When you attempt to make a rune that has magical properties, the power of that rune is determined by its exact construction. The width of a line or the angle of the joining of two lines all becomes important. A wizard will only become a master of runes after years of experience and learning rather advanced theory."

"You are not encouraging me."

"Most witches and wizards are not encouraged. The benefits of learning runes are substantial, but most witches and wizards cannot see those rewards. Instead they see only the hard work, and effects that can much more easily recreated with a wand. But consider this Harry – it is exceptionally difficult to create a ward with a wand that does not lose strength over time. Long term wards are always anchored to another source of power so that they will be maintained. A person truly skilled at creating runes, and that had all of the correct materials from which to construct it, could create a ward that would never diminish with time and could repeal most spells."

Harry nodded again, but it was a rather mechanical nod.

Sophia smiled, and drew a new rune in the notebook. "This rune is an easy rune to write. It means food. Let's practice it a bit, and then we will try an experiment." Tom readily agreed.

--

It was early the next morning. Harry crouched low to see the page he had ripped out of the notebook and left in the backyard overnight. A single run written in ink was written on the paper. Over the ink lines he had carefully taped pieces of his own hair. About a dozen ants seemed to be examining the rune.

"It worked!"

Sophia smiled. "The rune is very weak. A human would never feel its effects. Even an ant is only lightly touched. In this case we are taking advantage of the ant's nature. Ants leave trails that other ants can follow to find food. Those ants are there now, not because of the influence of the rune, but because other ants have left markers that there is food there."

Tom laughed. "That should be another lesson Harry. Groups can be lead through shared emotion and outlook. Effects can linger and motivate long after the cause has ceased to be relevant."

Sophia gave Tom a dirty look. Harry look confused. But then sat done and brought out another page from his note book. This page had another rune written on it. Taped on top of the line were plant fibers. He placed it near the other rune, but placed a sugar cube on top.

It took a while, but eventually some of the ants that were exploring the previous rune ran across the sugar cube on top of the new. The first rune was quickly abandoned and the ants began industrially claiming the sugar. Harry watched for a bit, and then stood up.

"If anything happens, it will take a while," said Tom.

--

Harry quickly did his chores and left the house before his family woke up and could give him more things to do. Soon he was roaming the streets of his neighborhood again on the lookout for any magical plants. He became excited whenever he saw a rose bush. The lover's berry that he had found was the first real magic he had ever seen. He had found another one a couple of days after the first and both were now hanging carefully in his closet, drying.

Harry stopped in front of a bush and asked, "Is this a hazel?"

Sophia nodded, and Harry asked, "So what should I do?"

Tom answered, "Cut off a forked branch. The two arms should be about a foot and a half long, the stem only needs to be about two inches. You can use a simple knife to do this."

Harry began to search through the bush, and presented several possibilities to his two friends, but each was rejected in turn.

"This one should work," stated Tom, "The fork has a decent angle, and there are not too many leaves to clean from it. Cut it here." Tom pointed to a point a little beneath the fork. Following Tom's directions and Sophia occasional bit of advice, Harry slowly and rather crudely given the dullness of the knife, cut the branch to size and removed the extra twigs and leaves. He then made his way back to the park.

"Well Harry," spoke Sophia, "let's make a good go at this."

Harry closed his eyes and started to spin around. After several revolutions he threw a small stone he held in his hand, and for good measure let himself spin around a couple of more times. He stopped and stumbled a bit as he struggled to regain his balance.

Sophia then spoke again. "I have never tried this before; I have only read the theory in passing." She paused and looked at Tom, but he shook his head. "Most wizards would not even bother, if you had a wand, you could with a simple spell call for that stone and have it fly into your hand."

"Its okay, Sophia, I want to try this."

"Okay. Hold the rod loosely in your hands. It needs to be balanced and free to move up and down." Harry nodded and with some experimentation held the rod to Sophia's satisfaction. "Now think of the stone. Do you remember the layers and the crack through the middle? I want you see it and every detail."

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. "I think I have it."

"Now push the image down through your arms and into the rod, down the rod and past the point. Hold the image of the stone just beyond the point of the rod."

Tom watched Harry as the kid continued to concentrate. To his surprise he soon saw a faint image of the stone appear near the tip of the rod. _This could be interesting. I had never thought to see magic from the inside. I might learn from this_. Tom thought to himself, and then let a rueful half smile reach his lips.

Sophia spoke quietly, "Harry, I think you have done it. Now open your eyes."

Harry opened his eyes, and Tom saw the image fade away. Sophia spoke, "It looks like you have just lost it again, let's try again."

Harry spent most of the early morning practicing his concentration. He still had trouble concentrating and walking at the same time, but before he went home for a late lunch, he had been able to find the stone. He arrived home from his first dowsing lesson feeling content.

--

Harry carefully considered the sugar baited rune. There were now many ants swarming over the cube, but among the activity he found two that were not moving.

"Those two were probably already weak, or lingered the longest, or visited the most number of times. Or some combination thereof," spoke Tom. "Given the strength of the rune, I don't think it would be capable of killing most of those ants even if they lingered."

Harry looked at the dead ants with a disturbed look on his face. "This doesn't feel right."

Sophia spoke, "Magic is a powerful force. It can cause pain and death was well as comfort and elation. There is dark magic and it is alluring. With magic we can manipulate the world. Some witches and wizards stop seeing others as humans, but just other objects to be manipulated and used."

Harry responded, "My parents were killed with magic, right? By Voldemort."

Tom answered, "That's right Harry." He pointed towards the rune on the ground. " This rune, the _Dav_ rune, represent death. There is a spell ,_Avada Kedavra_, which is the killing curse. It is not overly complex, it simply kills, it forceably separates the soul from the body. Voldemort targeted your father, your mother, and you, " Tom touched Harry's forehead, "with this spell."

"Why did I survive?"

Tom remained quiet.

After a moment of silence, Sophia answered, "Voldemort tried to kill you, but your mother wouldn't let him. She died trying to protect you. Her sacrifice protected you from the spell."

--

Tom raged. He took no satisfaction in destroying the trappings of his shadowy world. But he did anyway, destroying the furniture and decorations he had imagined for himself. Something so simple, something so old that it was not even really magic anymore had bested him. There was nothing special about the kid, it was his mother and her foolish sacrifice. How could he have forgotten something so simple, it was something on the order the hedge tricks and he and the witch had been teaching the kid.


	6. Aunt Marge

Harry stood with his eyes closed. It taken some time, but he had been able to find a stream bed. This one had been dry for years. He held in his hands a hazel dowsing rod.

"It looks like you have formed a good image." Sophia said. From her perspective she could see a stone hanging in front of the dowsing rod. It was a smooth, round river stone. Going through the middle was a hole.

Harry forced himself not to show the impatience that he felt as she continued. "Slowly open your eyes, and maintain your concentration. Search the surrounds. Do you feel the rod being drawn in any particular direction?"

Harry's face remained emotionless and his eyes slightly defocused. For the past couple of weeks, he had spent an hour everyday practicing with the dowsing rod. He was now able to walk about without losing his focus. He would have to be careful of the treacherous footing in this creek bed. He felt he had also become better at constructing the dowsing rod. This was the third one he had constructed, though it might be his imagination, it seemed livelier in his hands.

Harry had been surprised when Sophia had suggested that they try searching for stones with holes in them. Tom was not very enthusiastic. But if there was a chance, no matter unlikely, that he would be able to see a little more magic, he would try. His closet now contained a small collection of minor magical effects. From the very moment he had felt the lover's berry radiate his own shame back at him; his desire for magic had been ignited.

Harry turned slightly to his right and felt a tug at the rod. He gave himself the luxury of a small grin. He had been practicing, and was becoming better at finding objects with which he was already familiar, however, finding objects by their qualities, not by his own previous familiarity was much more difficult and he had not been particularly successful yet.

Harry moved, and yes, he had a direction. He started forward, directed by the rod. Sophia and Tom followed at his side.

Harry carefully made his way along the creek bed, the rod tugging along, until he stopped. Harry looked down at the spot where had stopped and examined the stones. It was not long before had had found a black stone about the size and shape of an egg. There were layers or swirls of white and green. Slightly offset from the middle was a hole.

"Good job, Harry. You are becoming quite adept at dowsing," congratulated Sophia.

Tom spoke, "Hold that stone still, and look at it carefully. I want to get a better look at it."

Harry did as Tom asked, turning the stone in his hands when indicated.

Tom smiled at Harry, "This may have been worth your while. I do not have any experience with such things, however from my previous studies; this stone may be fairly strongly magical.

Harry answered Tom's smile with his own grin, clearly excited by the words. "What can I do with it?"

"We will have to figure that out."

--

When Harry returned home he found his aunt and cousin to be rushing about. "Harry. You are a mess and your chores are not done. Hurry quickly; your uncle has just called. Aunt Marge is visiting today."

Harry knew what this meant. He carefully stowed his dowsing rod and the stone in his closet. Then bathed and dressed in his cleanest clothing.

--

It was later that evening. Dinner was finished. Ripper was nosily and rather messily devouring the scraps that had been provided to him. Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon were now eagerly attacking several bottles of sherry. Harry would have preferred returning to his closet rather than remain out with Aunt Marge. He had not had much time yet to examine the stone he'd found earlier in the day. Sophia and Tom were visible, but not speaking to him. Tom however, was making faces at the muggles. His antics became too much for Harry, and he let a small smile loose.

Marge may have seen the smile or his distracted look, but her face clouded with anger and her conversation now turned to Harry. "I see you haven't dropped the runt off at the orphanage yet. It really would be the best place for him you know. Vernon, it pains me to see you working so hard only to fritter your money away on such an unpromising boy."

Harry saw both Sophia and Tom react to these comments, but it was nothing new. As the level of the sherry bottle drew lower, he knew he would likely hear worse.

"Now Marge," spoke Harry's uncle Vernon, "He may not be much, but he is family, and we do owe some loyalty to that."

"Hardly, Vernon. Before he was left on your doorstep, had you ever seen the boy before? Did you even know of his existence?" His uncle tried to respond, but Marge continued speaking. "Really, what kind of family is that? You pay taxes. You already support the orphanage, what kind of justice is it, that you should be expected pay even more than you already do, to support this boy."

"Marge…"

"Let me tell you what the real injustice is. His parent's…" Marge was now wagging her finger unsteadily at Harry, "probably never paid taxes once in their lives…" Harry considered this, it might be true, he would have to ask Tom and Sophia latter, "yet now that they are dead we are expected to pick up the slack. That really is the problem with the world today. If there was justice in the world, when his drunken father managed to kill himself and your sister", Marge said speak towards Petunia," in that car crash, he should have had the decency to take his son with him."

Harry had not realized it, but he was now stand up, and loudly, even shouting said, "My Dad was not drunk, and my parents were not killed in a car crash. My parents were murdered."

Marge's already angry face now turned a shade of purple. Ripper, however, acted before she could speak. His muzzle still covered by the remains of dinner, he jumped up and lunged towards Harry. Harry tried to move out the way, and may have been able to avoid Ripper, but Tom chose that moment to start yelling rather angrily at Aunt Marge. This distracted Harry enough that Ripper was able to catch him.

Panic filled Harry as he felt the dog's teeth clench his leg. Suddenly, Harry felt a jolt run through him. Ripper gave a yelp, and Harry felt his leg come free. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the dog was back and had him by the arm. Harry felt the teeth start to break his skin, yet once more Harry felt a surge pass through him. Ripper let go of him with a yelp.

The room was in an uproar. Petunia, who was never comfortable around animals, was shrilly yelling at Marge to control the animal. She desperately clutched at Dudley and was working to drag him from the room. Dudley was crying and shying away from the scene.

"Stop this at once, boy," yelled Uncle Vernon.

Ripper was growling from deep in his throat. He lunged at the still prone Harry. This time he had barely touched him, when again felt a jolt like a park of static electricity. Ripper whimpered for a bit, but still eyed Harry crazily.

Aunt Marge was on her feet now and approached the snarling dog. Ripper tried to attack Harry again, but Marge was quick enough to grab his collar. The dog turned and bit her hand. She gave a startled yelp, and then using her other hand punched Ripper on the top of the head. He stumbled for moment, before collapsing unconscious to the ground.

What proceeded next happened quickly, and Harry in his shocked state, saw it through a blur. He ended up locked in his closet. That was a given, but sometime along the path, he remembered Aunt Petunia's shrieks of fear and outrage, chorused by Dudley's own sobbing. Aunt Marge had picked up Ripper and stormed theatrically from the house.

Harry was Uncle Vernon's outlet for his anger But Harry was locked in his closet. For some time Uncle Vernon remained pacing, muttering drunken. Whenever he passed Harry's closet door, he gave it a sharp kick.

This all passed Harry by. His attempts to sleep that night were harshly interrupted as he was seized by panic as the memory would not leave him of the raging dog attempting to tear at him.

He was able to sleep, but only as he used a recently harvested lover's berry to shunt away that panic. He used the berry many times that night.


	7. Being Caged

Harry was in trouble. He knew it. His uncle Vernon was verbosely explaining this to the animal control officer.

Driving away from the house on Privet Drive two days earlier, Aunt Marge had rear ended another car as it slowed for a red light. As she attempted to explain away her alcohol laden breath and impaired driving, Ripper woke up and proceeded to vent his frustration on the responding police officer.

Uncle Vernon continued his rant. His arguments and explanations repeating at a greater frequency and his voice growing louder. The animal control officer quickly turned from uninterested to annoyed. He tried to interrupt Vernon; however, Harry's uncle forcefully continued on. A large, bushy cat in a nearby cage hissed irritatedly.

"Smart cat," smiled Sophia.

Harry glanced at his two companions, but was careful not to respond to their presence. Uncle Vernon had been unusually irritable since his sister had been arrested. Which was unfortunate given how irritable he usually was.

The officer again tried to answer Uncle Vernon. This only seemed to give him renewed energy however. As Vernon become fully engrossed in explaining how Harry was responsible for Ripper's attack on the police officer and several witnesses, Harry took the opportunity to examine the various animals and cages visible. among the expected cats and dogs, there was, unexpectedly, a monkey and a large snake. Tom apparently had grown tired complaining of his uncle's actions and lounged on an overstuffed chair that had appeared.

Harry suppressed a sigh.

----

Tom sat brooding. The surrounding cages took on a dark, twisted look to better accommodate his mood. He looked at Sophia who stood near Harry. _It was only a simple trick_. He thought to himself. It was not Harry that had defeated him, but his mudblood mother. _So much for prophecies_.

But what had happened? He was not dead, yet why was he trapped?

He looked again at the woman, Sophia. _She knows._ She had too. It was hers, the power to interact with Harry. He could appear when she did, but he was powerless when she cut off that channel.

"So," he whispered to the nearby, caged snake, "do you yearn to be set free?" Tom received no response. Harry was now being shuffled from the office by his uncle. Tom watched as the snake disappeared from the boy's awareness. _I know you do. A snake is patient. It can wait for an opportunity to ripen before striking._

----

Harry was confined to his closet. He was being punished. True he resented being kept from the world and the small miracles his companions were charting; however, for the moment he was occupied. He held the stone he had found in the stream bed examining the colored veins that ran through it.

"How does it work?"

Sophia answered, "It is not really about making it work but shaping it into a tool. This stone has acquired a certain amount of magical strength. Just as a log can be made into various objects, we can use this stone."

"Tom?" asked Harry.

"Don't worry Harry, I really don't have much expertise here. It sounds like Sophia is on the right track, I'll just listen for a while." responded the man.

"Okay, so how do we shape it?" He asked, turning again to Sophia.

Sophia answered, "We should use runes," Harry audibly groaned, "They will be the best method to shape and guide the magic within."

Sophia continued, "We are acting a little backwards from normal. Normally a wizard would decide upon the effect he wants to produce and create a plan to achieve that effect. We are, given the circumstances, taking stock of your meager possessions and determining what can be made from them. It is a very different process." Harry frowned slightly and Sophia added, "a different process, but you don't have a goal other than to see and wield some sort of magic, we can achieve that."

Harry waved his arms gesturing towards the small confines of his closet and asked. "Okay, this is what we have, what can we make?"

Tom chuckled.

"Magic has affinities," spoke Sophia at which Harry furrowed his brow, "The magic of your stone is unique based off its history and composition. It may be powerful if put to one use, but powerless if put to another. We need to uncover the nature of the magic of your stone."

"How do we do that?"

Tom spoke, "It may be difficult, such properties are usually uncovered through certain spells or portions."

"I have something we can try" contested Sophia. "Try to gather some dust from the corners of the room and from under your bed. Take a sheet from your notebook and cover it with the dust."

Harry dutifully tried to follow her instructions, but it was difficult. Dust has the reputation for getting everywhere, but he found it was rather insubstantial and difficult to herd. Yet after nearly 10 minute's work, the white of the notebook page was darkened slightly by thin layer of pale brown dust.

Sophia traced a figure on the page with her finger leaving behind glowing green lines. "This is the Vej rune. It represents age. I want you to trace this rune in the dust." Harry did so leaving behind a figure like a forking arrow.

"Wands act as a focus for your magic. So can runes. However, runes are very specific."

Tom nodded a little in agreement, "I see. So even if Harry manages to channel using the rune, it will destroy itself before the ministry is able to detect it."

Sophia nodded.

Tom continued, "Harry, I see how this will work. Channeling through a single rune without further preparation is both practically useless and dangerous; however, given that we have constructed this rune of dust, the rune itself will be destroyed by the tiniest spark of magic."

"That means I can do magic?" asked Harry.

"A little," answered Sophia, "It would be both dangerous and illegal to try anything to spectacular."

"What do I do?"

"This rune is by itself. It has not been crafted into a spell effect. With it you will be powering Vej or 'Age'. The dust should help with this as it is composed of castoff skin, flaked paint, and so forth. Fix firmly in your mind and image or feeling that you can associate with age."

Harry closed his eyes and thought for a bit, he remembered an elderly man he had once seen while shopping with his Aunt. His deeply winkled face had be fascinating, and Harry remembered his aunt mortification as he stared too long.

"Okay, I think I have it. What do I do?"

Sophia answered, "It is difficult to explain. I want you consider the rune you have traced as if it was a gateway. On the other side of the gateway, imagine a great ocean of 'Age'". Tom chuckled a bit and Sophia continued, "Focus on the rune, you want pull this agedness from this ocean through the rune. You might find it helpful if you hold your hand above the paper."

Harry extended his hand of the rune, and tried to pull through the run as Sophia instructed. He fixed the old man in his mind and concentrated.

A couple of minutes latter he gave up. "I don't think anything is happening."

"What was your concept of 'Age'" Sophia asked.

"I was using the image an old man I once saw."

"'Vej' is not quite the same as old. It is more a concept related to the passage of time and its effects. One way to describe it is that it is the idea that as things are now, they were different in the past, and will be different still in the future."

"I don't know if I can do this." Harry said.

"Do your best. We are stuck in the closet. It really doesn't matter either way if you are able to channel 'Vej' or not.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes and held his hand above the ruin.

**Vej is not just becoming old ... It is a transformation ... We are using the dust because it is linked to Vej ... It is made up of skin, and paint, and other things that have been cast away ... Everything turns to dust ... Wouldn't everything eventually be dust? ... No I guess plants grow and rocks are formed ...**

Harry felt very small in his closet as he considered how old everything around him was. There were different objects and different things, but it was all there, it had always been here. Wildly different, but here, just with different faces ...

Tom watched as the boy changed expression obviously trying to force his 8-year old mind to understand such an abstract concept. Tom was considering a particularly blank expression when he saw a small orange spark jump up from the paper beneath the boy's hand.

"Harry what were you doing just then?" asked Sophia.

"I was thinking of the world and I saw it changing. I saw that nothing could remain the same. I tried calling to this force through the rune."

"Open your eyes."

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the dust covered page. The rune was still there but broken, the lines blurred out.

Sophia was smiling. "Good job. I will show you how to anchor the rune to your stone, we can then test the stone to see if we can identify any runes with affinities to it."

-----

Harry lay on his bed trying to quiet his mind any allow himself to go to sleep. It had been rather frustrating. He, Sophia, and Tom had tested various runes with the stone. It had been explained that he would have trouble channeling through the runes if the rune did not have an affinity for the dust he was using or the stone, but even then, it was never clear if the channeling failed due to the lack of affinity, or because, he just wasn't doing it right. They had identified a couple of runes that seemed to have an affinity to the stone, among them the 'Vej' rune.

When he had tested 'Vej' with the stone, it had been the only time he had actually felt anything during the entire exercise. It hadn't been much, but he had felt a slight pop as the rune was destroyed. Sophia had been concerned, and she had asked that he examine the hand he held close to the rune carefully, but there hadn't been anything wrong as far as he could see.

As sleep took him, Harry continued to review the events of the day. **Why did Tom speak about being trapped at the the animal shelter?..**


	8. Sharing with Dudley

Tom watched the little boy's dreams. Jumbled, confused, and repetitive. They did not hold much interest, yet he remained vigilant. Sophia would on occasion enter the dreams.

How much time did he have? How much time was he willing to give himself? In the months since he'd awaken and despite his most desperate efforts, he had been completely incapable of channeling magic or interacting with anything but the boy and the woman. _She knows_ he thought to himself, and it filled him with dread. Her intentions remained unknown, yet her affection towards the boy seemed genuine. Regardless, Harry was the key.

The dreamscape around him dimmed and went dark. _Am I cut off?_ It sometimes happened. No, there was pin point of purple light.

------

Harry found himself in a dark place. Strangely he was not scared. He looked around, yet all was dark. A small point of purple light appeared thrumming with magic. He tried to go to it, but he could not move. He tried reaching out to it, but could not touch it. The light exploded around him.

He saw a small palm sized stone. It had the appearance of a blood red crystal. Surrounding it floated many circles of glowing golden runes. He recognized a few of the individual runes, including those for time, youth, and change, but was completely overwhelmed at the complexity around him.

The inner most and outer most rings of runes flared purple. He recognized some of the markings. They were similar to the way Sophia had anchored the various runes of dust to his stone.

------

Sophia let escape a small gasp when the philosopher's stone had exploded into view. She looked in amazement at the runes circling the stone. It took just a couple of moments, but she greatly suspected that she saw the complete description of the philosopher's stone. Fascinated she examined the diagrams, mesmerized by the magic that was described, trying desperately to understand it. Then she caught herself. This was dangerous. She cut off the link to Harry's dream.

-------

"Mom, I'm bored." Dudley complained loudly. He and Harry were seated on a courthouse bench dressed in their best. Despite Marge's and Vernon's best efforts, Ripper had already been put down. Now Marge had to face her own judgement. Dudley continued to fidget, but Harry sat patiently. His mind returned again and again to his dream. He had not mentioned it to Sophia or Tom yet. He felt that dream had lasted for a very long time. As he reflected, he still could not make much sense of what he had seen. He knew just enough to recognize a spell diagram when he saw it, but he was completely unprepared to work out its meaning. He had tried puzzling it out, to no effect. Yet... The inner and outer ring had responded to his inquires. Whenever he gave his attention to them, their purple light pulsed like an excited puppy.

Aunt Petunia blanched at Dudley's continued protestations of boredom. She sat next to him dressed in an outfit purchased new for the occasion of Aunt Marge's court appearance. Harry, immediately returned a unrevealing expression to his face. He was learning, or trying to, to watch his reactions, there had been several instances were he had reacted to his companions at inopportune times. Although her very presence could distract him, Sophia was considerate of Harry's environment. She generally didn't distract him in the presence of company. Tom...

A well dressed man and woman stood nearby engaged in intense conversation. Tom stood with them, nodding his head as if he was included in their conversation. Harry smiled a bit, Tom wasn't one to make a fool of himself, but he seemed to take delight in mocking everyone. Unfortunately, his Aunt seemed to have noticed the small smiled that had development on Harry's lips. "Harry, don't be simple. I have too much going on right now to watch you and your idiocy."

"Mom. I'm. BORED." Complained Dudley again.

"Duddles, please be patient."

"But I'm bored."

Petunia with a harried look on her face quickly looked around. "If you promise to wait for us out front, you can get up and stretch you legs."

"I want a treat."

Petunia passed a little bit of money to her son. "There are some stores across the street, you may buy yourself a treat there."

Dudley jumped up and went towards the front entrance. Petunia seeing the distracted look on Harry's face said, "Go with Dudley, Harry."

-----------

Harry and Dudley crossed the street examining the business facing the judiciary. Dagget's was indistinguishable from any other small store. It had it's assortment of snacks and drinks; periodicals and small knick knacks. It was not particularly noteworthy, but an adventure to two young boys and little bit of pocket money. Tom considered it all with disinterest. Harry's cousin Dudley was eagerly sizing up the selection of candy. Harry stood by, nearly as eager.

Tom noticed something interesting flicker at the edge of Harry's perception. Carefully, Tom tried to make out what it was. It was a rack, but different from the others in the store. It too held periodicals, candy, and some small knick knacks, but these were far more interesting. Sophia did not appear to have noticed. _How to handle this?_

Tom decided the direct approach would reveal the most about Sophia. Careful not to attract Harry's attention, Tom signaled to Sophia. She noticed him. Discretely, Tom tried to point out the merchandise rack that had caught his attention. Sophia noticed, and puzzled at the things at the edge of Harry's perception. She nodded.

Sophia lay a hand on Harry's shoulder as he continued to marvel at the selection of candy with his cousin. He turned his head slightly towards her. She pointed towards the rack that Tom had pointed out and asked, "Harry, could you look over there for a moment?"

Harry moved away from his cousin and looked towards the area Sophia indicated. Among the metal and plastic merchandise racks in the small store stood a wide wooden rack. For some reason it held a mix a different goods: magazines, newspapers, candy, toys. He schooled his actions carefully; aware that he was not alone with his companions. Even then he could not hold his surprise. There were photographs on the cover the newspaper and various magazines, and they all moved.

He approached the magical pictures with a wide grin forming on his face. He reached and took a newspaper. **The Daily Prophet**. It's large baroque print loudly proclaimed the latest quiddich results and the latest tips for vanishing stubborn potion stains. Harry did not see this however. His attention was entirely absorbed by the the photo in the center of a page. Two men in robes, apparently flying on broomsticks moved in the picture. They threw a misshapen ball between themselves as the background blurred behind them. Harry touched the photo with the tip of his finger, yet he only felt the rough surface of cheap newsprint.

Harry opened the paper and leafed through the following pages. The photos and illustrations all moved. "What's that?" Dudley had moved to stand just behind Harry. In his hands he held a collection of treats. Harry closed the newspaper, and thrust it towards his cousin with the animated photo of the flying men prominently displayed.

A soft "Oh" escaped from Dudley. He eagerly put down his treats and took the paper from his cousin. As Harry before, Dudley traced the movements of the figures with a finger. "Where did you get this?"

Harry pointed to the lone wooden rack, and said with a smile, "Right there."

Dudley's eye followed his cousin's finger, but he furrowed his brow and returned to looking at the paper. "It's just like a TV!" Dudley held the paper to his ear and his face scrunched in concentration. After moment, he freed one hand from the paper and held it over his other ear. "But it doesn't have any sound?"

"Where did you get this?"

Impatiently, Harry again pointed towards the rack. "I got right here." Dudley's gaze followed his finger again, but his face remained dumb. Dudley turned back to **The Daily Prophet**.

Dudley flipped through the pages of the newspaper. Then scratching the back of his neck started to look between the treats he had previous chosen. Frowning he turned back to the front page and began examining the masthead. "Harry. Where did you find this paper? I want to know how much it costs."

Harry opened his mouth to say something rude, but Sophia interrupted him. "There is a muggle repelling charm up. Wave your arm and protest as much as you wish, your cousin is not going to recognize it."

Harry glanced at Tom and received confirmation. Dudley didn't notice Harry's hesitation as he continued to examine the newspaper. "Hmm" Dudley strained to divide his attention between the paper and looking around the store. "I think that this is the price" Dudley pointed to a "5 K" printed just below the masthead. "But I don't know what it means."

Sophia shrugged her shoulders a bit, "I don't know what you should say. You might just tell him that you found it stuck on a shelf by itself."

Tom quickly waved a palm, before Harry could react. "No wait. You have a much better option. Just tell him the truth. Tell him that the newspaper is enchanted. Tell him about the muggle repelling charm."

"Uh.." Harry tried to work out what he would say. He was tempted to follow Sophia's advice and deny knowing the origin of the paper. His companions and the magical world they introduced him to was a secret that had brought him a happiness he had not had before. He didn't really want to share any part of it with his family, no matter how little they could see it. But, as much as Dudley was fascinate by the paper and desired it, Harry wanted it more. There in cheap black and white was a greater manifestation of magic than he had ever achieved on his own.

"Dudley, It's a magic newspaper."

"You think so? I don't know. This is kinda of like my gameboy. Only.." Dudley held the newsprint between two fingers, "...thinner."

"It is magic. There is a whole rack of magical items right here." Dudley looked, his eyes glazed, and he turned back to the Prophet. "I wonder how much this costs?"

"Uhgg" exclaimed Harry in frustration. "Its a magic newspaper Dudley. I can't show you where I found it because there is a magic spell that stops you from seeing it."

"Uh huh," stated Dudley dubiously.

"Look... I mean don't look. Turn around, and I will show you something else."

Dudley stared at his cousin, then reluctantly turned away from Harry. Harry looked at the magic items. He picked up a bag of Jelly Beans, 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans'. Harry was sure that candy would peak Dudley's interest.

"Okay turn around." Dudley turned back to Harry, who then gave him the bag of candy.

Dudley looked at the candy, "So these are magical jelly beans then?"

"Yes, I mean... Turn around again."

Dudley shook his head a bit, and turned away from Harry. Harry looked over the wooden rack. The candy, while potentially interesting seemed unlikely to convince on his cousin. Harry considered the magical magazines with their moving pictures, but no. Harry smiled as he found the perfect item.

"Okay, turn around again." Dudley did so. Harry gave him the object, "Be careful."

"Ohh," Between his thumb and forefinger, Dudley held an animated figure of a robed man. He was beating uselessly at Dudley's thumb with a broom. "So how much does it cost?"

Harry grinned.

--------------

The sales clerk was willing to accept muggle money instead of wizarding money, but they did not have enough to purchase the animated wizard figure. It was, then, with the newspaper and bag of Bertie Bott's every flavor beans, that they left the shop.

"So these are magic then?" Asked Dudley with the bag of candy in his hand. "You don't plant them do you?"

"No, I don't think so. I think they're just candy."

Sophia nodded.

"What do they do?"

"Uhh.."

Sophia smiled at Harry, "Just give it a try." Tom smirked but did not add anything.

"I don't known."

Dudley held the bag out to his cousin and said, "You try it first."

With some evident trepidation, Harry picked out a red bean and put it in his mouth. He paused a bit, then closed his mouth. Slowly he chewed, pushing the pleasantly cherry flavored candy around his mouth. Harry paused taking several deep breaths through his nose. He held his hands in front of himself, and turned them back and forth examining them carefully. Then he swallowed.

Dudley watched his cousin anxiously.

"It was good, I guess."

Harry own puzzlement was matched by his cousin's. Dudley's expression quickly turned to disappointment. He took a green bean of his own, then hesitantly put it his mouth and chewed.

"What is supposed to happen Harry?"

Harry examined his hands again, then patted his arms and face. "I guess I don't know Dudley. I am pretty sure they are supposed to be a magical candy."

"I suppose that they are okay. Good flavors. At least we have the newspaper. It is pretty cool."

The cousins were now back in front of the judiciary and sat down on a bench to wait for Harry's aunt and uncle.

"How, do know about these things Harry? If there was a spell that hid this newspaper, how did you get around it?" Dudley asked his cousin.

"Go ahead and tell him the truth, Harry, you may as well continue." prompted Sophia.

"It was my parents. They were a witch and a wizard. I have inherited their gift."

"Really, You've never shown me anything before. You've never told me."

"Privet drive isn't a very magical place."

"Yeah..." Dudley turned back to the daily prophet and absently placed a small handful of jelly beans into his mouth.

Harry thought about this, but was interrupted as his cousin began to cough, then violently spat the glob half chewed jelly beans on the ground in front of him.

"Are you okay?" Asked Harry. But Dudley ignored him. He was now wiping his tongue on his shirt sleeve.

"Horrible. Ugly. Nasty. Ugh." His cousin sputtered.

Harry noticed both Tom and Sophia were both chuckling. He took another jelly bean from the bag, a purple one. He placed it in his mouth and carefully chewed it. _Eggplant_.

"I think, I have figured it out." Harry told his cousin who was now trying to work up the saliva so that he could spit again. "I think it really means 'every flavour'. I mean really who makes an eggplant flavored candy?"

"I had a lot worse." Dudley moaned.

"Really?" Harry took another piece, yellow this time. "Hmm. Lemon." He swallowed the candy, and took another. This one a pale grey. Harry began chewing, but then made a face, "Yeah, its confirmed ... I think this one is boogers."

Dudley stopped focusing on his own displeasure, and look now on Harry. Harry chewed a couple of times, then with visible effort he swallowed. Dudley smiled. "Okay, let me try again." Dudley took a single piece and hesitantly tried it.

They continued, taking turns to eat a piece. Laughing at one another's reaction when a unusual or disgusting flavor was found.

This was how Aunt Petunia found them.


	9. Being Caught with the Bag

It did not end well for aunt Marge. She was found guilty of various motor vehicle violation, but she was put in jail for 3 weeks for the attacks Ripper made on the police officer and two of the bystanders. Petunia and Vernon Dursley sat within the courtroom and witnessed the trial. Really, it was Marge's belligerence through the whole thing that lead to the jail time.

When the jail time was announced, Vernon grabbed Petunia tightly by the arm and stood up, pulling her with him. He quietly whispered, "We're going." They carefully made their way to the center aisle. Vernon kept his head down and avoided making eye contact with anyone in the courtroom, stepping carefully to avoid making any noise.

When the courtroom door swung closed behind them, he spoke, still whispering, "Where's Dudley?"

Petunia responded, "I let him stretch his legs. He promised to wait out front."

Vernon nodded, then continued with his same whisper, "Okay. I'll get the car and meet you there."

Petunia assented with a nod of her head. Vernon turned and walked briskly towards a side exit and the parking garage.

Petunia walked at a much more sedate pace towards the front entrance of the courthouse. Marge's accident had not happened very far from their home, she already suspected that her neighbors knew about it. Would they find out about this conviction? About Marge going to jail? She picked absentmindedly picked at

a frill around the neck of her new blouse.

She pushed open the door and blinked for a moment in the sunlight. She was annoyed that Dudley was not immediately visible. Vernon would be angry if they were not ready when he pulled the car around. Suddenly she heard a moaning noise, and the unmistakable sound of her son's laughter. Searching for the noise, she saw Dudley's and Harry's barely visible heads over the back of a bench. She approached them and spoke, "Come on Dudders, your father will be around to pick us up in just a moment."

Still laughing, Dudley turned to look at his mother. "Okay..." he managed to get out between his giggles.

Curious now, Petunia moved closer to see what the boys were doing. She saw that they had a newspaper opened between the them. Sighing inwardly, Petunia mentally tried to figure out what she was going to say to her son. He was rather young to be discovering what was hidden on the inner pages of some of the less reputable newspapers. She looked at the paper again. The boys were interested in a picture alright, but it was not the type of picture that she expected. It was a picture of a dragon -- a fully animated photo of a dragon.

"No!" She yelled and grabbed the newspaper from the boys. She was sudden enough that neither had reacted quickly enough to stop her. She looked around for a waste bin, and finding one, rushed to throw the incriminating thing away. As she moved to put in in the bin, she saw the animated photo on the front page of wizards on broomsticks and grimaced. Folding the newspaper she hid it's magical pictures, and looked around herself. Her loud outburst and sudden movement had caused several strangers to stop and look at her. She couldn't throw it away now, not here. Someone might see it. She hid the newspaper as best she could under her arm and returned to her son who complaining loudly.

"Mooooom," he moaned, "that's mine. I bought it with my money."

Petunia avoided making eye contact with any of the watching people, and with a low voice and a pathetic attempt to be stern with her her son said, "Dudley, please don't draw attention to yourself. Your father will be here soon."

"But, mom..."

Dudley was cut off however. Petunia had seen the bag of jelly beans he was holding. She remembered those well. As her son continued his complaints, she snatched the bag away from him. Dudley was shocked into momentary silence. His mother never treated him this way. He could only stare at her as she stuck the bag of every flavor beans into her purse.

The silence was short. Dudley was working up to a full blown temper tantrum. His cries were incoherent but loud, and he weakly hit his mother with his clenched fists. Petunia faced the situation with indecision, but was interrupted when Vernon pulled the car to a stop at the curb.

"Get in..." Vernon hissed loudly, "Stop making a scene."

Harry and Dudley entered the back seat. Dudley was sulking and slammed the door after he'd entered.

As soon as Petunia had entered the car, Vernon eased back into traffic. No one spoke for several minutes, although, Dudley continued to make the occasional whimper. Petunia broke the silence, "Don't go directly home, Vernon, I need to dispose of something."

Vernon did not answer. He did not even look at his wife, but nodded his head slightly in response.

-----------------------------------------------

Harry was laying down on the grass of the backyard. Overall the ride home had been very quiet, and oddly tense. Dudley had refused to speak with anyone as they returned home, and had immediately went to his room when they had arrived. He had slammed his door very loudly to express his continued displeasure. For their part, his aunt and uncle had remained quiet. Uncle Vernon had not even asked any questions when Aunt Petunia had had him stop and she had furtively exited the car and thrown away the wizarding newspaper in a secluded rubbish bin. As soon as the family arrived home, they had secluded themselves in their room as well. At least it gave Harry some time to talk with Tom and Sophia.

"So you can just buy magical things in stores?" asked Harry.

"Yes," answered Sophia, "Of course, you best options are going to be found in Hogsmead or Diagon Alley."

"Where are they?"

"Hogsmead is an town exclusively inhabited by wizards and witches in Scotland. Diagon Alley is hidden in London."

"I'd like to see them some time."

Tom responded, "Let's plan on it then."

Harry smiled lost in his own thoughts. He frowned, "So Aunt Petunia really knows about the wizarding world, I wish she hadn't thrown the newspaper away..."

---------------------------------------------------

Vernon was sitting on the edge of his bed with head in his hands. "It shouldn't be this hard. I have a decent job and a decent house... And then Marge... Not three blocks from here! How am I going to be able to face the neighbors, my co-workers?"

Petunia was standing, she did not have words with which to console her husband. Her own mind was still working over how to deal with the things that Dudley and Harry had found.

Vernon pulled his head up away from his hands, then stood up. "Well, I guess it is time to put on a brave face." He turned to Petunia and continued, "What was that scene with Dudley about?"

Petunia hesitated, chewing a little on her bottom lip. Noticing her hesitation, Vernon looked at her more intently, "What..?"

"Dudley found, " Petunia moved close to her husband and whispered, "a _magic_ newspaper."

Vernon did not act immediately, as if the meaning of her words did not register, but his mouth tightened and he moved to the bedroom door and locked it. "Blast that Boy!" He turned back to his wife making cutting motions with his hands, "...cut his hair, but it grows back. It grows back!"

"I know, dear."

Vernon composed himself, lowering his hands. "Where did he get it? I thought _their_ type did appear much in public."

"I don't know. I sent Dudley to buy himself a treat." She paused slightly, "Sometimes things are hidden so that normal people cannot see them...My sister showed me."

"Harry might have seen something?"

Petunia nodded.

"Blast that boy. We've given him a home and the food off our table. He is going to drag our family into his abnormality... And now of all times! I cannot support that." Vernon sighed, "He is an albatross around our necks, and now with Marge...We have to do something about him. He can't remain under the stairs. If someone were to see that now we wouldn't look good." Hesitantly Vernon continued, "I can manage without my office, we can have him sleep in the room next to Dudley. We'll have to increase his chores though, we'll give him no time for idle foolery."

------------------------------------------------

Harry looked around his new bedroom. _His new bedroom._ His uncle had surprised him with the announcement. Fortunately Harry had managed to discretely bring his magic paraphernalia from his closet without being caught.

"I wonder why this happened," Harry mused aloud.

Tom smirked and answered, "I am sure that it has more than little bit to do with the personal view your Aunt and Uncle had with the judicial system."

Harry looked at Tom with a puzzled expression, but did not say anything, but merely looked around his room again. It was still more or less his Uncle's office, and a single shelf ran along the walls of the room holding thick binders and trade manuals. But he had his own small bed from under the stairs. He was excited.

With nary a knock or warning, Dudley slunk into his room anxiously closing the door behind him. He seated himself next Harry with his back to the door. While revealing a bag in his hands he spoke, "Look what I able to get from mom's purse," he said proudly displaying the the bag of every flavor beans. Dudley took a light purple bean from the bag and looked at it suspiciously. He cautiously placed it in his mouth and bit down. With obviously relief, he smiled then continued chewing the candy. "I wish mom hadn't thrown the newspaper away. I wanted to look at it some more..." Dudley looked critically at his cousin, "Is there anywhere around here that we can buy one?"

Harry risked a small glance at his companions, and receiving no positive direction answered, "I don't know. I haven't seen anything around."

"But you're a wizard?" pressed Dudley, "Does that mean you can do magic?"

Harry was momentarily speechless not knowing what to say. He didn't want to show his cousin any of the things he had collected from around the neighborhood, finally he answered, "I haven't learned to do anything yet, besides I don't have a wand."

"How did you become a wizard? Can I be one?"

"I think I was born that way. My parents were magical." Harry squirmed in place.

Sophia spoke to Harry as he paused, "Dudley is not a wizard. He wasn't born with magic."

Harry continued speaking, "I don't think you can be wizard Dudley. I don't think you were born with magic."

Dudley scrunched his face together in anger, "You don't know if I was born with magic. Maybe I am a wizard."

"Maybe Dudley."

His cousin did not immediately answer, but after a moment his face returned to normal. "I really would like to see more magic. I'd like to have another newspaper and I definitely want to have on of those moving action figures. I have some money, please tell me if you find out where I can buy them okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Good." Dudley got up, and almost as an after thought, grabbed a small handful of the every flavor beans from the bag and gave them to Harry. He then quickly fled the room.

Harry sat looking at the candy in his hand. He chose one and grimaced as he bit into it _-- grass_.

He swallowed then spoke to his companions. "I want to visit Diagon Alley."

Sophia hesitated, but Tom quickly answered with a wide smile, "Of course."


	10. Escape from Privet Drive

Harry carefully complete the diagram with a curve. The chalk stood bright against the weathered black of the asphalt. It was simple diagram composed of only 3 runes. Central among these runes was the one for travel. He looked it over mentally comparing it to the diagram Sophia and Tom had devised, and which he had spent nearly an hour practicing. It looked correct. "What do you think?" He asked his companions.

"It looks good," answered Sophia. Tom agreed with a nod. "Let's give it a shot."

Carefully, Harry activated the diagram by completing the outer circle. Instantly he was blown back by an explosion.

* * *

It had been 3 weeks since Aunt Marge's trial. His uncle had been true to his word. Harry was kept so busy by chores that he hardly had any time explore the neighborhood. Occasionally, he would find a couple of hours to sneak away and practice with his dowsing rod. But that had become repetitive. His excitement for dowsing had been reignited once when it had helped him discover a 10 pound note that had been lost in a hedge. But that performance had not been repeated. After 2 weeks of increased chores, the only magical training he received consisted of time spent in his room working on runes in his notebook.

The excitement of having his new bedroom had not entirely left him. His old small cot had been replaced by a second hand bed, and Vernon's old desk was still in the room.

"Harry, I am sure that we can figure out a way to go to Diagon alley, " Sophia said, "but I am concerned. There are legitimate reasons why this house is still protected. Going out, being seen may not be safe."

Harry looked defeated. "I want to see magic; I want to do magic. You have shown me that it exists, I just want to see it," protested Harry.

"You'll have time for magic," Sophia answered trying to console him, "When you are eleven you'll go to Hogwarts and learn all about magic, you'll be able to perform magic thousands of time more wondrous than anything we have done together."

Harry shook his head in frustration. Tom spoke. "We, " he paused and smirked at Sophia, "are here to help you Harry, and to teach you. But you are in danger. Voldemort had many followers. Some who might still wish to cause you harm." Tom paused again and looked at Sophia, but she remained silent. "It is too much of a risk for mere sight seeing."

"I don't want to go sight seeing. Here nothing is magical. I have to literally scratch in the dust to see or learn any magic, but there are places that for mere pocket change magic can be purchased."

"Well," spoke Tom, "that is a little different. I suppose that if we were acting to further you education, and if we were suitably subtle something could be arranged."

"Really!" exclaimed Harry excitedly.

Tom looked to Sophia. She looked upset, but checked herself and visibly relaxing said, "It would be nice to get some reference books for you...," She became visibly more enthusiastic, "There are two two things we must do if you are to go to Diagon Alley. One, make sure you can walk among wizards unnoticed, and Two, figure out a way to get to and from Diagon Alley. I don't suggest asking your Aunt for a ride."

"There any number of ways to get there," explained Tom, "There are of course the Muggle ways. In the wizarding world, you would probably apparate or use the floo. There is also the knight bus. Some might even fly. A port key may be used, but no one one would do so, as there are so many easier ways to travel there."

"What can I do?"

"Honestly," answered Tom, "Muggle transport would be easiest. We would need to see if we could figure out a route to get us there. You may be able to learn apparation. If we became serious about you becoming an animagus, you might luck out and acquire a form that is able to fly."

Harry didn't have any time to respond to this as Sophia cut in, "Definitely no apparation. Ignoring the legality of it, it would be too dangerous for him to learn without supervision by somebody who could actually put him back together if anything went wrong. Animagus training perhaps...But I think I could probably figure out a way to floo there or use the knight bus."

Harry tried to answer or to express his gratitude or excitement. He opened his mouth, but stopped. What could he say? "I don't know. Its just... I want to see more. When you showed up and started teaching me things, I was overcome, but since I saw what was for sale at that store I have realized that what I have here is so little..." Harry paused, feeling embarrassed. "Thank you."

* * *

Dudley was in trouble and he didn't know how to handle it. When putting away his socks, Aunt Petunia had discovered the bag of every flavor beans. She'd promptly confiscated it, and to Dudley's utter confusion, he had been grounded for a couple of days. He was not allowed out with his friends, and he was even forbidden from spending any time with Harry. His screaming and pouting had gained him nothing but an additional day added to his punishment. He lay on his bed and eyed his possessions with annoyance. there was too much junk in his room. Too many of his toys were broken, some of them were recent victims of his tantrum. His parents had been talking about giving him his dad's study so that he could store some of his possessions there, but that was not going to happen now that it was Harry's bedroom. And there was no chance that he would put toys there if it was Harry's room, _...only... Harry did show me the magic..._

Suddenly possessed with a thought, Dudley jumped up, standing on his bed and gestured expansively with hands, "Zzzap." He pointed at several of his toys and a photograph or two, "Zap! .. Kabow! .. Zap!" He looked at his hands, the speaking aloud to himself said, "Why can't I be a wizard? Harry said that your parents have to have magic, but aren't we family?"

Dudley jumped off his bed and picked up an articulated action figure. It did not move like the one they had found in the shop. he still wished that he'd had enough money to have purchased the little animated figure. His mother probably would have confiscated it was well, but he still wished that he had it. His action figure was one of his few toys that was not broken. This was because he had received it as a present and had barely given it second thought. It did not beep or light up, like his other toys, and so held little interest to him. He played with it now. Imagining that it could move like the other one did.

Palying with the toy, Dudley forgot that he was being punished.

-------------------

Harry was grateful that Dudley was being punished. Truthfully, the injustice of his Aunt and Uncle towards himself hurt, and he took pleasure in seeing Dudley receive some of the same for once. Even better, with Dudley being grounded, His Aunt didn't want him around the house, and so he was "excused" from the regime of chores that he had been assigned. Harry happily breathed the sweet air of his freedom. He was making his way to the pharmacist with money carefully guarded in his pocket.

Sophia and Tom were currently visible. Harry felt like they were arguing, but he could not point to the words or what they were arguing about. The first detail of his plan to visit Diagon alley was going to be fulfilled. Sophia had explained that Harry's scar was his truly identifying mark. She believed that with makeup he would be able to conceal his scar and pass unnoticed. That is, as unnoticed as a young unaccompanied minor can be.

It was on that point that Tom had reassured him. He had confidently told Harry that he would be able to navigate the wizarding world, regardless of his age, quite unnoticed. Though he had not said so, Harry had the feeling that Tom found the idea that merely masking a scar would be enough to conceal Harry's identity was silly. Harry felt it was a little silly as well. He normally left his long unruly hair hang over his scar anyway, so most people would not see it anyway. He wasn't about to mention this to his companions. Tom seemed willing enough to embark on the trip to Diagon Alley, but Sophia not so much. he did not want to lose her help.

Unfortunately the first store did not have what he needed, unless he wanted to paint his entire face an unnatural shade of white or purple. he was however able to find the makeup he needed at the second store he visited. He was sitting at the curb outside the store, enjoying a rare treat - ice cream, when Tom broached the second issue, "Harry has his makeup now, " Tom said to Sophia, "how is going to get there? You suggested the Knight Bus or Floo?"

Sophia, who, with a smile, had been watching Harry his ice cream turned to Tom and answered, "Yes. I have given it some thought, and I believe that the Knight Bus will be the best option. Using the Floo would require gaining access to a connected fireplace. We could do it in a pinch, but the Knight Bus is much more public."

Harry paused from his ice cream, "The Knight Bus requires a wand to summon doesn't it? How am I going to do it?"

"There is an enchantment on the carriage ways of Britain. This enchantment exists in a careful balance that is very easily disturbed. When the balance is disturbed the enchantment suffers a local collapse. This pulls the Knight Bus to that location. It is the Knight Bus that restores the enchantment to the location. Wizards can call the Knight Bus simply by pointing their wand over a road. This disturbs the balance of the enchantment and ends up summoning the Knight Bus. You don't have a wand, but we should be able to arrange an alternate channel with which to perturb the enchantment."

Sophia stopped speaking and Tom looked thoughtful. Harry took a couple more licks of his ice cream, but as the silence continued he had the feeling that Sophia was waiting for him to say something. "I don't have a wand, but I need something to disturb the spell?"

Sophia nodded.

"It's going to be runes again, right?" asked Harry.

"That's right. I think that I can show you a self powered seal that should draw enough power from the enchantment to induce a collapse. We'll need some chalk..."

* * *

Petunia hadn't left her room in 3 hours. She had already missed 2 of her favorite soaps. Another was going to start in 20 minutes. She hadn't missed that one in 4 years. Even on vacation she had managed to keep up with it. Now it was not even on her mind. Her problem was Dudley. He wasn't accepting his punishment well. Every time he heard her moving around the house, he started screaming again.

Hesitantly, Petunia walked to her dresser and opened her top drawer. _No_, she decided. Dudley was not her problem. She stared at the accursed thing hidden within. This was her problem. She recognized what it was. It was something that she and Vernon had vowed would not enter their home. But here it was, and she had been the one to accidentally bring it in when she forget to dispose of it with the newspaper.

Petunia felt a stab of paranoia. She couldn't simply throw it away, not from her own home. Did she dare even carry it somewhere else? What if she was caught with it? There was only one thing to do. She opened her closet and stretched to reach the darkened corner of the upper shelf. Her questing fingers found what she was looking for. She took down a small locked box. Vernon didn't even know about its existence. She had been told many long years before that it would be unnoticeable to anyone but herself. There was a large flower drawn whimsically across the lid. She didn't have a key for the box, but when she touched it with her finger, it clicked open.

It had once held many other things, but now it was nearly empty. She placed the bag of Bertie Bott's every flavor beans into the box where it joined an envelope of photos that would never be looked at and single parchment with emerald lettering. She locked the box again and returned it to its hiding place.

She knew how magical items were hidden out in the open, noticeable only by those with magical ability. That the boys had been able to find those items proved that Harry had inherited his parent's gifts. _As if that was ever in doubt._ She conceded to herself. Another thought occurred to her as well, one which she quickly quashed. _Maybe Harry hadn't been the only one to see the magic._

* * *

It was the explosion or else Harry's own startled surprised, but he landed on his back and cracked his head painfully against the ground. His vision swam around distressingly and Sophia's concerned questioning seemed muted and distant. After several moments, Harry lifted an arm and felt the back of his head. He could already feel a goose egg beginning to develop. Sophia's voice started to become more distinct.

"I'm okay." Harry mumbled.

"I'm so sorry, " Sophia apologized, "That was too close."

Tom chuckled a little, "That was impressive. You're just dabbling child and nearly get yourself killed. I hope you don't make it a habit."

"No, " answered Harry sarcastically, "I will not get in the habit of getting myself killed."

"What are you doing down there?" asked a voice from above. Harry noticed a large, purple triple decker bus had appeared in the street in front of him. "Are you okay?"

He was being interrogated by a woman in an odd uniform. She looked at him quizzically. "Did you call for the bus?"

"Yeah, I did." Harry tried to get up, and it took him several tries to do so. "I want to go to Diagon Alley."

She continued to give him a strange look. "Sure, that will be 11 sickles."

"I don't have any wizarding money, " Harry explained and gave her a 5 pound note, "I hope this will do."

The conductor looked at the note with some distaste and hesitantly took the money, then entered the bus. Harry saw her show the money to the conductor. He saw him take it and examine it carefully. Harry even thought he saw the man lick it.

The woman returned. "That'll work. Do you want any..." but she paused and continued, "come on aboard."

Harry risked a quick glance towards the seal he had drawn on the asphalt, on a couple of lines remained. It looked like it was sufficiently destroyed. He struggled up the steep steps, and smiled when he saw the oddly dressed passengers. Unexpectedly the bus jumped forward with a jolt.


	11. Diagon Alley

_A/N: Posted August 5, 2012_

Magic is wondrous. It flows throughout the world. The dead world of winter springs into a profusion of life as the earth continues along its yearly course. The stars and planets spin and leap through an eternal dance. The little butterflies play in the high mountain meadows. Every year the mind of man is bent to a greater understanding of the grand rules and structures that govern all of this - this magic. Some people live a life a magic. Every day promises unbounded opportunities. These people achieve great things - but not always without flaws.

Harry tightly griped the pole in front of him. He now sported an assortment of bumps and bruises. After the first jump had knocked him to the ground, he was now wary of the Knight Bus's erratic motion and violent jerks. The bus jumped forward again and he lost his grip on the pole and collided painfully with the seat besides him. He glared at his companions, they were not affected, and calmly sat nearby. Sophia looked concerned, she had already given him several bits of advice. Tom, however, had not actually laughed out loud at his situation, but it was a close thing; the corners of his mouth twitched in suppressed mirth.

"Leaky Cauldron," announced the conductor.

Harry tried to blink away his muddled thoughts. It was hard to tell how long the journey had lasted. The bus had made at least a couple of stops before arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry had been so involved in fighting the lurching of the bus that it seemed as if he had traveled for hours.

Two witches exited the bus. By the time Harry collected his thoughts and coaxed his clenched muscles back into cooperation, the bus doors had started to close and the bus threatened to leap again. Just as he exited, the bus popped away causing him to stumble and struggle to maintain his balance. In his view Sophia had exited before him and Tom was following to exit after. The sudden jump left Tom apparently standing in the air.

As Tom's image slowly descended so that he once again had the appearance of standing on the ground, Harry regretfully complained, "I really do not want to do that again. I might get killed just summoning it.

The small group watched the two witches from the Knight bus enter a dreary looking pub. The name, "The Leaky Cauldron," was proclaimed in faded paint on a dangerous looking sign. It appeared so weather beaten and neglected that it seemed close to collapsing onto the side walk. In preparation for this trip, Sophia and Tom had described the alley to him, including The Leaky Cauldron, but their description did not do it justice.

He warily examined the pub's exterior. It was just a single aged wooden door. There was a single window set in the door crossed with decorative iron bars. However, whether it had been painted over on the inside or was merely too dirty, no light came from the the interior. The door had already closed after the two witches. He cautiously approached the entrance, nervously walking in a small arc so that he was never directly beneath the dangerously unmaintained sign, and entered the pub.

HP:SPF

Petunia drove the car with false confidence. This used to be home, but her family had moved just after her 16th birthday. Growing up, she had not really noticed its humble nature, but the poverty and desolation of the area had only increased in the intervening years - the effects of declining industry everywhere evident.

She parked the car, but did not get out. The house had been subdivided and now appeared to sport about 3 different apartments. She had thought that she might feel some twinges of nostalgia at the sight, but was surprised at her own indifference.

She restarted the car. It only took a single left turn and she was driving down Spinner's End. It was with some relief that she came to the end of road and couldn't find the house that she had been looking for.

Petunia parked the car and got out. The brick homes were uniformly old and gray. She leaned against the car and bit her lip.

She and her husband shared a normal life. They owned a home in a respectable neighborhood. Vernon had a good job, a company car, and they vacationed annually. She didn't know if she was actually happy, but she was satisfied. Even with Harry living with them, it had been possible to live years at a time without even thinking about the weirdness hidden within the world.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Lilly had once taught her a trick. Most magical things were hidden from people without magic, but it was still possible to occasionally catch a glimpse from the corner of one's eye.

Petunia opened her right eye just a crack. Slowly she shook her head back and forth. She tried to same thing with the left eye. Finally, she opened both eyes and shook her spread fingers rapidly before her vision - then stopped.

She nodded grimly to herself, returned to her car, a drove away.

Hidden things can still be real. Without a doubt, Harry had inherited the magical gift from his parents. What of Dudley though? Could he see the hidden things? And did she hope that he could - or, that he could not?

HP:SPF

The pub was dark, musty, and slightly damp. Both Tom and Sophia had described and explained things as best that they could. As they had prepared for this trip, their vivid descriptions had filled his imagination, and he thought he knew what to expect.

He was wrong.

The place looked like it could be the set of an historical drama, but it entirely failed to invite or be exciting in any particular way.

These must be magical people by the manner of their dress, but there was an almost uniform aura of menace around each of them. Several people had taken notice of the new comers. The witches that Harry had followed into the pub were obviously expect by a small group of other witches sitting around a table in the corner. Almost everyone soon returned to their own activities, but Harry was unnerved by a few continued, curious stares. As calmly as he could manage he walked to the back entrance of the pub and entered the small alley behind.

HP:SPF

Hermione was glad to be out of the pub. Harry was obviously put off by the odd characters, and a young boy was much more noticeable in the dark atmosphere of the pub than he would be in the alley proper.

The entrance to the alley was sealed, and doing its best impression of a simple brick wall. Preparing for the trip had involved a half dozen planning sessions in which both she and Tom tried to teach Harry everything he would need to know in order to stay safe. The simplest scenario for passing through the wall was that it was already open for some other witch or wizard. Unfortunately, it was shut.

After much discussion both she and Tom had agreed that it would be best if Harry didn't ask for help opening the wall or simply wait for someone else to open it. Both strategies could increase the risk of Harry being stopped by concerned strangers or even recognized. Fortunately, she had a trick that she had taught Harry and felt sure that he could accomplish.

She identified the access brick, and used her finger to trace out the _por_ rune, willing a glowing yellow figure to remain behind. She then stepped back and allowed Harry to approach.

This was a simple trick that she had developed and one of the few things she allowed herself to show off. Understanding the enchantment on the wall, and being a little clever allowed her to open the gateway without a wand. The enchantment was not designed for security, but to facilitate entrance. It was a simple design whose form closely followed its function, and knowing its design one could directly channel through one of the anchoring runes and trigger it to open.

Harry stretched his arm and held his open palm just above the glowing figure.

"The rune I drew doesn't really exist on the brick, it is only image I placed to help you," she coached him.

He nodded, then stared at it intently as she continued in a whisper, "...channel _por_ just as we practiced, and just as you have with other runes … The rune itself no longer has a physical representation, but it still exists, and you can still channel through it … Every day, Wizards and Witches pass through this door … they touch the tip of their wand to this brick and power is channeled, por is channeled … this has happened every day of every year for over a hundred years …"

As she continued her whispered coaching, a small yellow spark seemed to leap from the wall to Harry's palm, leaving a dim yellow mark on the brick for just a moment before a bright green web seemed to grow rapidly across the wall.

"Good job Harry," she congratulated him as the bricks started to move about; forming the archway to Diagon Alley. His excited smile made her decide that trip was already worth while.

HP:SPF

It had worked! He had nearly killed himself summoning the Knight Bus, but opening the archway was by far the greatest feat of magic he had ever performed. He couldn't help the excited and almost painful smile that spread across his entire face as he watched the animated bricks grind past one another. They opened first a small hole then expanded the hole into a full archway.

As he gained his first view of the magical district, time seemed to slow down, yet not nearly slow enough to let him take it all in. The road did not run in a straight course, but meandered lazily back and forth, very quickly obscuring the further reaches of the district. The surrounding building crowded the road, and for all of their unusual angles and architectural details, they looked like a crowd of eager people pressed up against and in some places over the road.

Harry jumped in fright at a sudden POP. A wizard in bright green robes appeared in a nearby alcove. Harry watched in wonder, as without so much a looking around, the man strode forward and joined the light crowd.

Just as quickly as the shock had come, it passed. He saw a train of packages floating behind a woman as she walked down the street pausing to examine the window displays. Two older boys were dodging in and amidst the crowd, passing back forth a ball that was slowly shifting colors as it looped and weaved to avoid the intervening pedestrians. He even saw what appeared to be an aardvark dancing at a corner. As he tried to figure out what was going on, an elderly witch stopped to drop a few small coins in a cap next to the capering animal.

Harry was broken from his revere as he felt Tom nudge him and say, "The bank is on the other end of the alley. Let's get moving, and you can take in the sights on the way."

HP:SPF

Harry had successfully exchanged his meager money for wizarding coins. The goblins were extremely intimidating. Fortunately, the exchange desk was being manned by a nervous looking wizard.

He visited a shop called Gambol and Japes and spent over an hour looking at all of the toys on display. Before leaving he purchased two chocolate frogs, intending to share one with his cousin.

He was amazed by Flourish and Blotts and went from one book to another examining their titles and staring at the animated pictures and figures. Unfortunately, he did not have enough money to buy anything. He determined to come back in the near future with more money - somehow. More than once, Sophia would delighted point out one book or another and excitedly explain what it was about, or why he should look forward to purchasing it.

They were on a tight schedule as they both wanted to avoid attention from the wizards and witches, and he had to get back home without being missed. There was just one more stop to make. A visit to a magical menagerie.

HP:SPF

Harry and companions entered the menagerie. His reaction to the wares compared favorably to their visits to Gambol and Japes, and Flourish and Blotts. It was better than any muggle pet shop as it contained exotic and magical animals from the entire globe. Harry's wide eyes ranged over the entire shop, before he rushed forward to examine a set of pink flamingos sitting board stiff on a rack.

Voldemort wasn't holding his breath. There was two reasons for this. One, he had no biological need to breathe, thus hold his breath was currently impossible. Second, as a very young boy he had divested himself of as many tells as he could. He held his own counsel. However, if he had the need to breathe and was less skilled at maintaining his composure he would be turning blue in anticipation.

As Harry continued his examination of the shop, more of the details were revealed to Voldemort's view. He carefully examined everything as it became visible, looking for a suitable animal.

It finally appeared. A handsome Great Horned Owl. It was watching Harry's progress through the store, and generally seemed the most aware of him. It behavior would help the illusion he was going to attempt.

He had successfully practiced some small illusions before, and believed he had been successful in deceiving both Harry and Sophia. Nothing substantial though, it was a tactic he had wanted to save for something significant. This would be both a good test and further one of his plans.

He calmed his mind and prepared to exert his will upon his surroundings. Just before, beginning his illusion his spied a tank of tiny vipers, and hissed, "_Good fortune to good plans_."

He carefully schooled his features as Harry jerked to look at him, having apparently heard something. Sophia however showed no reaction, and Harry returned to his exploration.

Voldemort turned his keen mind upon itself.

HP:SPF

"_Good fortune to good plans_."

Harry turned his head towards Tom. However Tom's whispered remark didn't seem to be directed at him, so he continued with his exploration. This must be the best day of his life. From summoning the Knight bus, to opening the gateway to the alley, seeing witches and wizards moving through a fantastic world, to magic of Gambol and Japes, and the knowledge present at Flourish and Blotts, each and everything individually was enough to make his entire month happy. This visit was just as amazing.

He slowly examined each display, passing from one exotic animal to another.

He played with a caged, purple-colored mouse. Moving his finger in front of the cage from one side to the other, delighted as the creature leaped to follow.

"Hoo..hooo..HOoO"

A large owl had called from its perch on the other side of the store. As Harry watched, it spread its wings wide, and seemed to dance from one foot to another. Intrigued by this behavior, Harry approached it.

"Hoo.. "

Harry smiled as the owl continued to draw attention to itself.

"Hoo.. "

The owl punctuated its last call with two great beats from its wings. Harry noticed both Sophia and Tom join him in watching the owl's antics.

"HOO..HOO..HOOOOO"

Sophia appeared first amused by the owl, then thoughtful, finally giving a shock gasp, "This shouldn't happen!"

"What is it doing?," Harry asked her.

"Well, I am not sure..." She temporized, then continued her examination of the owl.

"I think we should leave," she then answered sadly.

"What? Why?"

Sophia was slow to answer and showed great reluctance. Tom answered instead, "This owl is showing signs of developing a familiar bond with you."

Sophia looked towards shopkeeper and was satisfied to see that he had not noticed the commotion yet.

"A wizard shares an empathetic sense with a familiar, right?" Harry asked trying to remember what he had been taught.

"Yes," she confirmed, "Such a bond will slowly, but inevitably, develop between any witch and wizard and an animal that they feel close to and associate with regularly... It is rare, but possible that the bond can form almost instantly when a particularly compatible animal and magic user meet."

Harry looked back at the owl with new appreciation. "Wow."

"Familiars separated from their wizard fall into depression, and most die," warned Tom.

"Oh..." Answered Harry with dawning sadness, "Maybe we could make an arrangement with the shopkeeper," suggested Harry desperately.

"I am so sorry Harry. We can try, but..." Sophia trailed off. "We just don't have the money."

All three fell into silence as the owl continued to call to and perform for Harry.

"There may be a solution," proposed Tom, then asking Sophia, said, "Are you familiar with a Gringott's demand account?"

"I am." She answered with sudden and cold hostility. "And, we are not going to attempt to defraud the goblins."

Tom simply weathered the outburst, and answered calmly, "I do not propose to defraud the goblins, I own an account, and I am offering funds from it."

This seemed to take Sophia back a bit, and she hesitated before saying, "I am not sure that is possible."

"It would not hurt to try," argued Tom, "If I can tell Harry the account number and amount, and if he can then write it down, I don't see any reason that it shouldn't work."

Harry had been trying to follow their conversation; largely without success. He tried to pull himself back into the conversation, "What are you talking about."

"A demand account is used to transfer money without using coins. It belongs to a single person, and due to the enchantments placed on the account number, only they are able to share the account number in conjunction with withdrawal amount. I own such an account and should be able to give you the money you need to purchase your familiar," explained Tom. He then added, "Plus maybe a little more."

Sophia still seemed aggravated towards Tom, but as she watched the owl, her expression softened, "If he can share the account information, and you are capable of writing it down...We can try. It is a safe enough risk for a familiar. We still have enough money to buy some parchment for the attempt."

HP:SPF

The goblin looked at the scrap of parchment skeptically. The writing was very crude, and though the goblin could not know this, written by a hand unskilled at the use of a quill. Harry stood before the goblin, unsuccessfully trying to hide his nervous shaking. The goblin looked up from his examination of the parchment and glared menacingly at Harry. Harry let out a small yelp of terror at seeing the goblin's sharp teeth barred at him. Sophia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tom laughed.

"Don't let him get to you." Tom chuckled. "He is just being a goblin. The treaty ending the goblin rebellion of 1542 guarantees them the right to act disrespectfully to wizards, and every goblin I have ever met exercises that right to the fullest."

Harry remained frozen in place, eyes fixed on the threatening figure before him. Harry felt more than heard the goblin emit a menacing growl. Goosebumps prickled down his neck.

"Pay attention, Harry! If you don't start answering his questions, he might get annoyed." Tom continued sharply.

Harry felt himself being hugged from behind by Sophia, and he suddenly recognized that Tom was right to be warning him. The goblin looked extremely annoyed. Apparently the goblin had been speaking to him.

Intimidated and embarrassed, he looked away from the goblin, then hesitantly spoke, "I am sorry s-sir," he voice was barely above a whisper and the goblin might not be able to hear, so he forced himself to raise his voice. He was able to manage a little. "I was ..." Harry almost said that he had been distracted, but was afraid that it might give offence and decided not to finish the sentence. "Could you please repeat the question."

Harry anxiously waited, but the goblin did not say anything. Finally, Harry looked back towards the goblin. It still sat looking at Harry with a sour expression. Finally Harry met the goblin's eye again, and after holding it for a moment the goblin spoke once more.

"Would you like the galleons in coin or deposited to your vault?"

Harry stood blankly without answering until Sophia's calm voice prompted him from behind, "Just ask for the coins Harry."

"Coins." Harry was able to croak.

"Let us see." If anything the leer took on a more evil bent.

The goblin took the parchment in his hand and spoke some incomprehensible phrase. The parchment dissolved into green smoke and a stack of gold galleons appeared on the counter. Harry definitely saw a hint of disappointment pass over the goblin's features. Harry stared at the wealth. The coins sparkled as if newly polished, whispering of the wealth they represented. The goblin impatiently started to tap a claw.

"Take the galleons," urged Tom.

Harry hesitated, then carefully reached forward and took several of the coins and put them in his pocket. Unfortunately, his pockets soon filled and over half the galleons still remained, sitting on the counter. The goblin handed Harry a small pouch. Harry nodded in thanks and placed the remaining galleons in the pouch.

On his way out of the bank, Harry stopped again at the currency exchange. He converted 20 galleons to pounds. At seeing the 100 pounds (minus the goblin's fee), it finally seemed real to him. He now had more money than he had ever had in his life!

It was now almost impossible to contain himself. He struggled to maintain his face and his emotions. His legs threatened to skip ahead excitedly, and he quickly folded his arms to prevent their joyous undulations. Even then, and despite all of his efforts, Harry risked drawing attention to himself.

Sophia wore a happy smile on her face, but seemed as torn as Harry as she surveyed their surroundings for spectators.

Tom just laughed in great, continuous bellows.

HP:SPF

When Harry returned to the menagerie, the owl was much more subdued. He quickly concluded the transaction. In additional to the owl he purchased a small bag of owl treats and a small wallet filled with an limited assortment of veterinary potions. At Sophia's suggestion, he let the owl go and told it to meet him at home latter that night.

He had to hurry now to get back home. The stop by the bank had pushed them past their self imposed deadline. Despite, his newly acquired wealth, and deep desire, there was no time to go back and purchase any of the items that had caught his eye.

As he was passing an ice cream parlor, almost back to the gateway to the Leaky Cauldron, he came to to an abrupt stop as a strong hand griped and held him by the shoulder. Turning his head, and raising his eyes to see who had stopped him, his vision was filled by a large vulture poised as if to strike.

HP:SPF

Darkhammer was the consummate goblin banker. That is, he was entirely pragmatic. This was interpreted by less well informed witches and wizards to be ruthlessness, a callousness towards life, and a love of money. Less well known is the complex network of loyalty and honor which permeated and structured goblin society.

Darkhammer had once been something of a rising star amongst the clans, but due to both rashness and indiscretion, his position had been stalled for decades.

Amongst his duties was responsibility for a number of demand accounts. He was nearly done for the day and just had to review the daily activity of those accounts. One withdrawal caused him to pause. Since the fall of the Dark Lord activity on that account had fallen - as was to be expected. Scripts against the account had been cashed in sporadically over the past seven years as their holders passed them along and finally felt confident enough to cash them; however, the last such one had occurred over a year and a half before.

He carefully checked the withdrawn amount and paused again. This time grinding his teeth with agitation. This required special handling. He took a moment to recall the information that he had never trusted to be written down. The primary contact was currently a resident of Azkaban, but there was a secondary contact available.

Darkhammer finished his work quickly, then visited the Gringott's owlery personally. He sent off an owl with a simple message whose words did not matter. The recipient would understand the meaning -

**Your Master Summons You.**


End file.
